


Slice of (Apple pie) Life

by My_floaty_coaty_boy, RubenWrites (My_floaty_coaty_boy)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Angst, Care home au, Fluff, FtM!Castiel, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Minor Character Death, Tags to be added, Trans Castiel, Trans Male Character, foster home au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2018-10-25 17:23:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 24,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10768932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_floaty_coaty_boy/pseuds/My_floaty_coaty_boy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_floaty_coaty_boy/pseuds/RubenWrites
Summary: Castiel is a 16 year old trans boy, living in Garrison Care Home for Young People. Oh, and he has wings.Dean Winchester rides around the country with his father John and brother Sam, hunting monsters.When something happens and Sam and Dean have to move in with their uncle Bobby, Aunt Ellen, and cousin Jo, Dean's life takes an unexpected turn.





	1. Castiel Shirley hates Mondays

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey hey, I'm back! I haven't even finished Lawrence 99 yet, but here goes, this is a thing too now. (If you haven't read Lawrence 99, then hello!)  
> There shouldn't be any tws in this at all, but if there are, then i'll warn you in this bit.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are introduced to Castiel, an orphaned boy in his Sophomore year of high school.   
> **23/7/17 now edited for mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings for this chapter. If you disagree, drop me a comment. If you agree, drop me a comment. Plz comment.

_The cave is dark. No sounds puncture the musty air. Shadowy creatures lie comatose in every corner and the only sign of life is the slow rise and fall of fabric as fearsome creature under it slumbers. The terrible monster turns in its sleep, and begins to make long, rumbling growls, its spindly claws twitching and reaching for something that isn’t there._

_Suddenly, a fearless hero appears, clutching the monster’s only weakness: A freezing, dripping, sunshine-yellow face towel. With cat-like agility, and a total disregard for her own life, our graceful hero enters the monster’s den, her only companion in this troubling time; her sidekick, the noble Princess Anna of Purple-Scalextrics. The hero, Lady Hannah of LemonCloth, approaches the beast. With commendable steadiness, Lady Hannah looms over the creature, and launches her attack._

_The moment the icy cloth hits the monsters tanned skin, it awakens. The ear-splitting roar is met with cackles of victory from our two heroines, and they run for their lives, revelling in their success._

Castiel trudges after them, cloth in hand. Hannah and Anna are long gone, probably to the safety of their well-stocked fort commonly known as the kitchen, and he knows there’s no use running after them. That doesn’t mean he won’t get them back, eventually. He grabs his uniform and wastes no time claiming the bathroom as his own.

When he does emerge from the bathroom he’s met with a queue. Zachariah pushes past him, and Lucifer, the eldest in the home, who a devilish knack for weedling blackmail information from even the sweetest souls, glares. “Why’d you take so long?”

“Blame Hannah and Anna; they woke me up.” He grins, saying his piece louder than he needs to, guaranteeing that everyone in the house knew who was really to blame. Hurtling down the stairs and into the dining area, Castiel takes a strategic spot closest to the door.

“Hey, Cassie! How are you, this most glorious of mornings?” Anna’s ever-irreverent snob-voice made Hannah giggle as the two of them took seats opposite him. Anna ruffled the younger girl’s hair and stole a croissant from the middle of the table.

“Simply _wonderful_ , thank you for asking, Anna. I will make you regret every single one of your life choices. Fair warning.” The bitter-sweet grin never left his face, and Hannah retorted with a goofy face and mocking sound. “You laugh now, but just you wait. Remember, my dear, revenge is a dish best served cold.”

“Ca! Up!” Ezekiel, the youngest resident at Garrison Care Home for Young People, and Castiel’s own personal limpet, waddled up to the boy. Castiel smiled at him and picked him up, plonking him in his highchair carefully.

The room slowly filled up as people awakened, and eventually they were all there, pouring cereal and buttering toast. The room seemed to have and invisible live down the middle, dividing it into ‘Early birds’ and ‘Night owls’, half chattering animatedly, and half throwing glares to anyone that dared to mention what time it was. Castiel was lucky enough to find himself on the ‘fuck-off-before-I’ve-had-food’ side, and began to think.

Next to him, on his left, there was Ezekiel, slowly eating the weird, porridge-like food that one gives to small children. Ezekiel had wisps of blond-ish hair, and bright blue eyes that shone from pale skin. Master of baby-talk and snot, Ezekiel had worked out that if he made what Lucifer referred to as ‘puppy-eyes’, then anyone within a few feet would bow to his every whim.

On Ezekiel’s other side, at the far left of the table, sat Hannah, the second youngest at age six. She had dark hair and eyes, and loved the colour pink. Obviously. Although, recently, she’d been in favour of blue because that was the colour, shed sternly told him over imaginary tea one time, that the Ice Queen wore when she sung the musical masterpiece in the latest princess movie. Of course.

Then there was Zachariah, who was trying desperately to solve a puzzle in a _Scooby Doo_ book while not spilling cheerio’s everywhere. He started to argue when Raphael correctly suggested that the answer to the puzzle was ‘Great Dane’. Zachariah’s most prominent feature, Cas pondered, was probably his gobby mouth.

Anna was picking at the thread of Lucifer’s jumper, and the two were squabbling playfully, as Anna’s bright red hair trailed in her food. They were the eldest residents in the home, Lucifer being Castiel’s other biological brother. It was the three of them: Lucifer, Castiel, and--

"Hey, Cassie!" Gabe grinned through a mouthful of-

"Is that caramel? Gabriel, it's not even eight!" Castiel chastised. "And don't call me that!" Gabriel was a year and a half younger than Castiel, but acted like he was everything that was right with the world.

"Aww, wassup, Cassie? Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?" Lucifer teased. Castiel ignored him.

These, Castiel sighed into his oatmeal, were the people with which he chose to spend his time. Not that a lot of other people talked to him.

This was going to be a long Monday.

One of the carers in the home, a stern woman named Naomi, raised her voice from the hall. "You have to leave soon if you're going to get to school on time!"

The portion of the room she was talking to let out a synchronized groan.

Castiel was a sophmore, as Balthazar, arguably one of his closest friends here. Castiel and Balt finished eating and pulled each other out the door. Raphael, the only Junior, trudged after. Gabriel was last to leave, sparing a second to sneak Hannah and Zeke, the youngest of the group and both middle schoolers, a piece of caramel each.

~*~*~*~*~

The trek to their high school was not a long one. It took five minutes, in which Balthazar had miraculously managed to mess Castiel's hair up more than it already was. Castiel had thrown him off good naturedly, but it was too late. The birdsnest was back with vengeance.

They'd managed to get all the way through the doors of the school when Castiel's day plummeted. Hey, new record.

"Castiel, honey, can you do me a favour?" One of the receptionists called.

 

He sighed inwardly, nodded farewell to Balthazar and Gabriel, and swung his gaze to the woman. "Yes?"

"I'd like you to show a new student round the school today, if you wouldn't mind," she said, as if he had anything better to do.

"OK, I will." He nodded, and she smiled.

"Dean, come here, hun, now, this is Castiel, he..."

Whatever the lady said next was lost on Castiel. The boy in front of him was stunning, as much as a teenager could be. He had blondish hair that framed his features brilliantly. Green eyes, a plethora of shades that Castiel could lose his way in, and no doubt held secrets beyond imagination, studied him cautiously. Freckles scattered his face and neck like stars in the sky, and Castiel was left breathless.

"So, Cas, where to?"

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings for this chapter. If you disagree, drop me a comment. If you agree, drop me a comment. Plz comment.


	2. Dean Winchester Also Hates Mondays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Dean and Dean meets Cas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day, because this one is kinda short! Yea!
> 
>  
> 
> Also, i forgot to mention, but I'm British, and therefore have no idea how the American school system works. I googled it, but it's confusing. So, you'll have to deal with it when i get stuff wrong and spell things with useless 'u's. Sorry!

John Winchester was, to say the least, a distant father. Even when they were together, he just found it difficult to find any common ground with his sons. Apart from hunting, they didn’t have much in common, other than their relationship. He didn't know how to be a father, not really. He knew how to be a commander, an officer, yeah, but that didn't always cut it. No, Dean was much happier caring for himself and his brother, Sam, the way he had for years.

John had dropped them off in South Dakota yesterday, saying something about a nest of Vampires nearby, and how he couldn’t take them all out on his own. Dean’s cousin Jo, (and her parents, obviously,) lived close. The three of them were also hunters, so by the time the Winchester’s got there, the spare rooms had been prepped, Ellen and Bobby had seated two more for dinner, and the three adults had left almost instantly.

Dean couldn't say he minded. He loved his dad, sure, he just...preferred his own way of living. Simple as that.

He awoke that day, as many teenagers do, feeling like a mobile mess, wholly oblivious to how this day would change his life. He considered dozing off again, into the welcoming arms of slumber, but swung his legs over the mattress before he could drift off. He stretched, hearing his spine crack pleasingly. He groaned, and yawned, beginning to trudge down the carpeted stairs of the smallish South Dakota house.

There was a note, on the fridge, scrawled in his father's messy hand.

'Dean, sorry I'm not around, but I had to leave. Be back in two weeks. I heard there’s something potentially paranormal at your new school. Check it out with Jo, for me.'

Typical. Not even a 'goodbye', or an 'I love you, son, you make me proud.' Dean smirked at the thought. John Winchester, a proud father? Yeah, right. Just another case.

He grabbed the box of cereal from the counter, and poured a bowl for himself, then another.

"Hey, Sammy, Jo! Breakfast!"

The younger Winchester hurtled down the stairs, ever the morning person, and grabbed the bowl and half-fell into a chair. "Has dad gone?" The brunet brother asked.

"Yeah, Sammy, he left this morning, with Ellen and Bobby. He'll be back in two weeks, so if you want to have a party, now's the time, 'Kay? Just don't trash the place..."

Sam smirked. "Yeah, Dean, 'cause I'm the one who punched the whole in the wall at the last one."

Dean just grinned. "Bitch."

Sam mimicked his smile. "Jerk."

Jo trudged down the stairs, glaring at them. Dean handed her a coffee, which she accepted. Jo was a year younger than Dean, at fifteen, and Sam was twelve. That being said, all three of them knew things that would make some adults sick to the stomach.

"You ready for a new school? I promise, Sammy, this'll be the last, yeah?"

Sam seemed to take this as a less-than-truth, but nodded. "Uh-huh. Sure, Dean."

“Hey, Jo, dad said there’s been some weird stuff goin’ down at the school, and we gotta check it out.”

Sam groaned. “ _And_ I miss all the fun because I’m too young. Typical!”

 

When the three of them had eaten, Dean grabbed his jacket, and the keys to the car his father had left him; a 1967 Chevrolet Impala. It was a fine car, black as soot, and it drove like a dream, purring silently and it slid over the asphalt road. Dean loved it.

The three kids bundled into the car, and began the journey to their schools.

Sam was too young for high school, though Dean thought he could probably handle the work. Dean was proud of how well Sam did despite his broken education. They dropped him off at the Junior High before Jo directed him to her school. Dean knew how to integrate, and would probably be taken in at once by the 'popular' kids, mainly due to his looks, he knew. It happened every time. It didn't matter who he hung out with; it was only until dad got back. He wondered, idly, which of their cases would get solved first.

So, the school day began. He expected, like normal, to fall asleep in math. To eat lunch with Jo. To bunk last period, scouting for anything ‘weird’.

The powers that be, however, had other plans.

Jo had left him to fend for himself, spotting a friend and running to meet her. The woman at the reception gave him a timetable just as a large-ish group of kids banded through the doors. The woman, who's name he'd promptly forgotten, called to one member of the group, "Castiel! Can I ask a favour of you?"

And what kind of name is _Castiel_?

He turned to look at the newcomer, and anything else the woman said was drowned out by his own thoughts. The guy, Castiel or whatever, was stunning. Light blue eyes that made Dean feel like he was flying, but in a good way, met his own. A dark twisted mass of hair contrasted the cerulean gaze immaculately. Dean was lost until his mind caught up with his heartbeat. His face, he could tell, was red.

"So, Cas, where to?"

Shit.


	3. Take A Chance On Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean talk. And text.

Castiel had been leading him around the school buildings for the better part of an hour. Dean had tried to weedle some information from the kid; maybe Cas knew something about the supernatural situation that was apparently going on. Unfortunately, the black-haired, blue-eyed boy just glanced at him oddly when he asked questions, occasionally humming yes or no.

“So, Cas, got any siblings?” Dean asked. It was a go to subject for him, safe, easy, a good conversation starter. “I got a brother, Sam. He’s twelve. So smart. Gonna be a lawyer or something.”

Cas smiled at the ease with which Dean spoke. Then he seemed to consider his answer for a few moments. “I have eight siblings.”

“ _Eight_? You’re not serious. I barely manage getting through the day without hitting my one!”

 Castiel hummed. “Lucifer, Anna, Balthazar, Gabriel, Raphael, Zachariah, Hannah, and Zeke.” He listed, counting on his fingers as he mentioned the names.

“Woah.”

“Gabriel is a year younger than us, Balthazar is our age.”

“OK, OK, but what I wanna know, is who the Hell name’s their kid ‘Castiel’?” Dean grinned.

At this question though, Castiel smirked. “I don’t know.”

“…What do you mean?” Dean sneered.

“I never knew my parents. I live in a care home, just around the corner from here.”

Damn. Now he felt stupid. “…Oh. I’m sorry, Cas. I…I didn’t…”

Cas smiled at him, only semi-forced. “It’s OK, Dean. Like I said, I never knew them, so I don’t miss them. I have my brothers, and I have my friends at home. I don’t need people who didn’t want me.”

         “Still, I mean…Do you never just want…time to yourself?”

“Oh, I’d kill for it. But, I’m used to it.”

Dean smirked. As if he’s ever been able to resist a pretty face and good backstory. “Well, y’know, if you ever wanna drop by, or…uh...hang out, somewhere, if…y’know, if you wanna…” _Wow, Winchester. Real smooth._

Castiel had the good grace to smile, and Dean thought he saw the ghost of a blush under the collar of the other boy’s collar. “Thank you, Dean, the offer is greatly appreciated.”

That's how they spent the first part if the day. Wandering through yellow corridors, lined with lockers, talking about nothing at all. Dean found out that Castiel liked to draw, and was good at math. Castiel found out about Dean's near-obsession with 80's rock and love of all things motorized. He even found out about his brother Sam's fascination with the psychology of serial killers and interest in law, and his cousin Jo's fondness of photography. When Castiel asked about why Dean had joined the year late, Dean rattled off the usual explanation about how his dad dragged them around the country on business trips.  

The more Dean found out about Castiel, the less he could deny his crush. Which was definitely there.

Dean had known about his bisexuality for a while, though he'd yet to do anything about it. He doubted Sam would mind at all, really, but his father was unpredictable; a loose cannon at the best of times, John Winchester could do any number of things in reaction to the news that his eldest was anything but straight as a ruler.

Castiel, however, was out as out can be, at least about his sexuality. Sure, there were bullies, but he had friends, and though they would make jokes, and his siblings that would laugh at said jokes, all of them were willing to stand up for him if the need arose.

Like now, for instance.

It was lunch, and Dean hadn't left his side yet. They had decided to bunk, at least for a bit. After all, the school _was_ a large one. Dean _was_ a slow walker.

They'd made their way to Castiel's locker, and he was fishing his books for next lesson out from the tiny space when Dean had spoken up.

"Hey, Cas, why has someone written 'fag' on your locker?"

                 Castiel glanced back at him, eyebrow raised. He pulled a pack of baby wipes out of his locker and began to scrub at the letters. "Three guesses, Dean."

"Y-you're gay?" Dean cursed. The words had seemed less harsh in his head.

"Is that a problem?" Castiel’s tone had a warning edge, and he paused in his cleaning to glace back at Dean.

"N-no, not at all, I was just...I didn't-" Dean decided the best way to extract his foot from his mouth was to stop talking. Castiel, however, was grinning.

"Relax, Dean, I know you don't mean any ill will. Come on, let's go eat."

*-*-*

Lunch was good. Dean had been introduced to Cas' friends: Charlie, a geeky redhead that Dean instantly clicked with; Meg, who he was less sure about. Then there was Balthazar and Gabriel, Cas' siblings. They were nice people, and when Jo decided to join them, the group just got happier.

The lot of them spent the lunch hour laughing like maniacs over the stupidest of things, and Dean couldn't stop himself from looking forward to the time he'd spend with them.

*-*-*

After lunch Charlie joined them on their walk to their next lesson, which they shared. It was English. Fun. Dean ended up passing notes to Castiel, who sat the other side of the aisle between desks.

_'Why do we need to learn how to do this anyway?'_

_'I don't know, Dean, but we do. Stop moaning and get on with it!'_

_'Fine, fine, but you have to promise me something.'_

_'If it will get you to stop before we get caught, anything.'_

_'You have to promise to go on a date with me.'_ Dean practically thrust the note at Cas before he could scribble it out. As Castiel read the paper, Dean did more work distracting himself than he had done all lesson. No reply came.

_What if I've messed up? God, he hates me. That means we can't hang out._

Five minutes before the bell rang, Dean found himself looking out of the window away from Cas. The only thing that kept him from his inner self loathing was something hitting his hand. He looked down. Paper. _The note._ He unfurled it slowly, not letting anyone see how shaken he was inside.

_'Sure. When? :)'_

Now Dean was shaken for a whole other reason.

 

*~*~*~

They spent the evening texting back and forth, until Castiel excused himself to eat, citing a prestigious ‘no phones at the table’ rule that was apparently gospel to the care workers.

Dean had decided that that was as good a time as any to start on their own dinner. He called Jo and Sam to help him, and the three ended up making pretty decent burgers.

Dean was washing up when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Perhaps he moved for it a tad quick, because he heard giggles behind him. 

_So, Dean-o, who are you waiting to text u?_

He turned to Jo, who sniggered into the plate cupboard.

He threw a rag at her.

*~*~*~*~

“Cassie, who ya textin’?”

Cas shuffled further away from Gabe, who had climbed onto the sofa to try and see his phone. “No one.”

“Ooooh! Cassie, lying is a sin, you know.” Anna giggled.

Castiel sighed. “I’m texting my friend.”

“What’s their name?”

“Nunya.”

“Nunya?”

Castiel nodded, and glanced at Anna. “Nunya business.”

This shut Anna up, but only encouraged Balthazar.

“Ah, Cassie! So sassy! Well, you’re defensive, so it’s more than a friend. The fact that they’re texting so much means that it’s probably new. Our Cassie is gay as a rainbow, so he’s a guy.”

Gabe chuckled. “Cas met a new kid at school today; his name’s Dean. They _totally_ have the hots for each other!”

Lucifer frowned. “Cas, you know you should be careful, yeah? You don’t know anything about this guy. He could be a transphobe, or he might find out about, y’know…” Lucifer trailed off, glancing slightly behind Castiel.

“I know, Luc. I’m being careful. He’s a good guy.” Castiel stood, he seat instantly filled by Hannah, and trudged upstairs, bored of interrogation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What?! three chapters in a day? I'm spoiling you!  
> Yell at me in comments!


	4. News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets news. Castiel helps them all deal.

“C’mon, Jo! Get up, we’re gonna be late!” Sam was in a bouncy mood. Literally. After failing to wake Jo up himself, Dean had sent Sam to jump on her mattress.

Dean was about to turn to plan C: The cold water. He’d actually got the cloth, loaded with freezing tap water, when his phone buzzed. He sighed, resting the cloth in the sink.

_Dean. It’s Bobby. We’ve just taken out the vamp nest._

_John didn’t make it. I’m sorry._

Shock struck his system. Then fear.  He jabbed the call button on Bobby’s number. He picked up after one ring.

“What the Hell do you mean?” He hissed, checking for eavesdropping housemates before closing the bathroom door.

“Dean, I’m sorry. The nest...It went up in flames. John, he…we can’t find him. He’s not answering his phone. We went back to the motel, and he hasn’t turned up yet.”

“’Yet’? How long ago was that?”

“…’bout 7 hours. I’m sorry. Me an’ Ellen ‘ll be back in a week. Six days if we floor it.”

Dean grunted. “’Kay, Bobby. See you then.”

Bobby hung up. Dean stood stock still or a few seconds. Then made a guttural noise and threw the cloth as hard as he could at the wall. It made an empty slapping sound and fell unsatisfyingly onto the toilet tank.

Sam appeared at the door, looking concerned. Oh, God, he’d have to tell him.

“Dean? What’s wrong?”

Dean didn’t trust himself not to choke on his words. He tried to clear his throat, but it stung, like there was a rock stuck inside. “Uh, Sammy, I gotta tell you something.”

“…Dude, you’re kinda scaring me…What’s up?”

“It…It’s dad. He…uh, he didn’t make it out of the vamp nest.”

Sam stared at him, blinked a few times, and looked away. “Wh…what? But…But we were fighting. He can’t…I never…” His eyes were full of tears, but none fell yet.

“Sammy, ’m sorry.” Dean knew his dad and his brother didn’t always see eye-to-eye. But that just made it worse.

Sam’s chest stuttered, and he began to cry. Dean was there in an instant, arms wrapped around his brother. “Hey, hey. It…it’s gonna be OK. We’ll stay with Bobby and Ellen and Jo, yeah?”

Sam nodded, but didn’t speak.

“Well…hey, at least you won’t have to keep movin’ schools now, huh?” Dean tried a smile that he didn’t feel. Sam cried more. _Oh, God_.

“Hey, hey, c’mon, it’s OK. Whaddaya say we skip school today, yeah?”

At this, at least, Sam nodded.

“’Mkay. I’ll go tell Jo, you go get the ice cream outta the freezer, yeah? I feel like a backwards day. That sound good?”

Backwards days were a thing they’d done ever since John started leaving them on their own during hunts. He’d leave to take out the monster, whether it be a werewolf or poltergeist or whatever. They’d have ice cream. Then good food. They’d have a sandwich or something around lunch, and then have cereal for dinner. Dean didn’t really see the appeal, and to anyone else it was probably random as fuck, but it was their thing. So it made perfect sense.

Sam nodded and wiped his nose on his sleeve. Dean ruffled his hair and snorted. “You’re gross, y’know that?”

Sam smirked sadly. If that were a thing that existed. “Yeah, you’re grosser, though.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.” Sam plodded out to the kitchen, and Dean picked the cloth back up. Then he went to Jo’s room, and threw it at her.

*~*~*~

Jo hadn’t gone to school either that day, which was fine with the Winchesters. They’d spent the whole day in pajamas, eating food and throwing tissues at each other. They watched supposed ‘feel-good’ films, but some of them were Robin Williams ones, and they just and Jo cry.

At 10:30 Dean got another text. The buzzing interrupted the Very Serious monologue at the start of Kung Fu Panda. Sam shushed him and threw a pillow at his face.

_Hey, Dean. What’s up? You haven’t skipped town already, have you? :)_

Cas. Dean smiled slightly, tapping a reply.

_No, Cas, sorry im not in. I should’ve texted earlier. Uhm, our dad got into an accident last night. He passed away this morning._

Not technically a lie, but safe enough. He hit send when he realized he was complaining to an orphan about losing one of his parents. Now he felt dumb.

The reply come quickly.

_Dean, I’m so sorry for your loss. I’ll be round l8r. What’s ur address?_

Dean quickly typed out his address.

“Who you textin’?” Sam’s voice was quiet, and hopeful. Dean knew what he was thinking. _Maybe Bobby made a mistake_.

“My friend, Cas, from school. We…uh…He’s gonna come over later.”

                        Sam groaned and rolled his eyes. “But he’s gonna be all sympathetic and treat me like a kid!”

                        Dean smirked and nudged Sam in the head with his foot. “Nah, he won’t. Trust me.”

                        Sam looked at him weirdly and scoffed, turning his attention back to Jack Black Panda and his adventures in hand-to-hand combat. Dean glanced at Jo, who was smirking at him like a weirdo.

                        “What’re you lookin’ at?”

                        Jo’s smile grew, and she looked back to the film. “Nothin’.” Her smug little smirk told otherwise.

                        *~*~*~*~

                        At 3:43, thirteen minutes after school ended officially, there was a light knock on the door. It was unsure, as if whoever it was didn’t want to intrude, but after the first light knock, two heavier ones sounded, as if they were trying to be heard. Dean kicked off the couch, and answered the door, leaving Sam and Jo to watch how Truman escaped his Show.

                        “Hello, Dean. I’m sorry. I…I’m so sorry for your loss.” Castiel clutched two plastic bags, handles looped around his wrist, like he’d been fiddling with them.

                        “Hey, Cas.” Dean nodded in greeting, stepping aside to let him in. “We, uh…Sam and Jo are watchin’ bad movies.”

                        “Hello, Jo.” Castiel greeted his friend before turning his azure eyes at Sam. “And you must be the famous Samuel Winchester. I’ve heard so much about you. I…” Cas frowned sadly, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

                        Sam stared. “Y…you’re not talking to me like a kid!”

                        Castiel huffed a laugh. “Well, from what I hear, you’re very intelligent. I was under the impression that I didn’t need to.”

                        Sam smirked, looking back at Dean. When Castiel revealed four large bars of chocolate, Sam’s face lit up. “OK, I guess he can stay!”

                        “What’s in the other bag, Cas?” Dean smirked.

                        Castiel turned, and offered it to Dean. “You missed school. I was given your homework.”

                        Jo snorted. Cas gave her a Look. “Yours is in there, too.”

                        Sam giggled, grabbed his chocolate bar and slumped back on the sofa. The credits had been rolling for a few minutes, so he punched the buttons on the remote to turn the film off.

                        “Come on, I have plans.” Castiel grinned, only slightly forced, and added, “I want to show you all something.”

                        Dean glanced at Sam, then at Jo, who nodded. “Lemme get my shoes.”

 

*~*~*~

Cas led them to a nearby park. To be honest, Dean hadn’t noticed it was there before, despite walking along that street many times. Glancing at Jo’s baffled expression, he could only guess she felt the same.

                        Castiel grinned, and swung open the rusty gate that separated the park from the rest of the world.

                        Stepping through the gap in the chipped yellow fence was an otherworldly experience. The park looked normal; there was a climbing frame, swings, a roundabout, and a sandpit. It was lined with trees. This wasn’t what was weird. The park was empty, despite the early hour. It was…cold. Vacant. Like it was alive, and asleep. Dean felt the need to whisper.

                        “Cas, what’re we doing here?”

                        Castiel turned back to him and smiled. “I know a place.”

                        Jo took out her camera. She enjoyed taking photos, of them, of scenery, of anything. Meanwhile, Cas trekked towards the back fence, swinging one panel loose, then holding it open for them to pass through.

                        So, now they were in a weird forest, outside of a weird park.

                        Cas wasn’t done though. They walked for a few more minutes before Castiel stopped so abruptly that Dean walked into him.

                        “Here we are.” Cas pointed at one of the trees. Small wooden planks had been fastened to the bark of the trunk, almost like…

                        Steps.

                        Cas scrambled up the tree, pulling Sam, then Jo, then Dean up into it’s branches.

                        A treehouse.

                        _A fricken’ treehouse!_

                        And not a shabby one, either. The lowest level, and yeah, there were _levels_ , was full of beanbags and blankets. There was a small shelf on the wall, holding two books, a box of comics, and a flashlight, as well as a brown apple core. Castiel pulled a face at this, and threw it out of a window-gap.

                        “Sorry, I think Gabe and Balthazar were up here last.”

                        Leading them up further into the tree, Cas pulled them onto a set of pallets, shaped like a cave, the opening facing west. The top boards of the pallets were strung with empty glass bottles and ornaments, all different colours. The sun painted a mural with them against the back wall.

                        “Cas, this…This is amazing…”

                        Castiel grinned. “Thank you. My father built it, when I was little. Well, he built this bit. I strung up the things, and Lucifer and Anna helped with the rest.”

                        “Your dad built this?”

                        “Yes, before he died. Or, left. Maybe both. I don’t really know what happened to him, he just…Didn’t come back. I’ve never known my mother.” Castiel sounded sad, but he was smiling, swinging his legs gently over the side of the pallets. “When things get too much for me, I come up here. I now formally extend that invitation to all of you.”

                        Dean grinned, bumping his shoulder, joining him on the edge. “Thanks, Cas.”

                        Sam leant against the side wall of the cave, and Jo rested at the back, occasionally snapping photos.

                        Dean chuckled once, “God, I feel so dumb. I’m literally moaning to an orphan about losing one of my parents.”

                        Castiel snorted, and Sam kicked Dean lightly. “It’s OK, Dean. I can only imagine what it would be like to lose your father, or any parent, when you can remember why you miss them. I feel as though that would be a far greater pain.”

                        Dean was listening, but he got lost in Castiel. His voice, gravelly, like he was about to lose it. His dark hair, and where the orange sunset glowed through the thinner strands. His eyes, every shade of blue humans had ever discovered, and probably more, full of secrets and memories that Dean longed to learn. He shuffled closer, linking Castiel’s fingers with his own, and turning to watch the sunset reflect through pink and green and blue bottles. The only sound was the occasional click of Jo's camera. The cold breeze was refreshing, not uncomfortable. He smiled.

                        Maybe they’d all get through this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i like this one. Tell me your feelings.  
> Also, follow me on tumblr, if you want to  
> http://cracked-in-a-box.tumblr.com/


	5. Something's weird About Castiel Shirley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas leave for their date. Lucifer wonders what Dean knows.

Dean was worried about Castiel. They watched the sunset, and everything was fine. Better than fine. But Castiel had stared fidgeting. And sighing.

                        “Cas, are you—”

                        “I’m fine, Dean. Just…I should probably get going. It’s getting late.” Without waiting for a reply, Castiel began to scale down the tree. Dean, of course, followed him.

                        “Hey, Cas, wait!”

                        “Yes, Dean?” Castiel paused, waiting for Dean to catch up.

                        “Uhm…Are…Are we still on for that date on Saturday?”

                        Castiel blinked in surprise. “Oh. Yes, of course, I just thought that…Well, maybe, after your bereavement, you might want to…wait…”

                        Dean smirked slightly, not really feeling it. “Nah, I still want to. I…I’ll pick you up, yeah? Like…lunch time?”

                        Castiel nodded. “See you then, Dean.”

 

After Castiel had left, the treehouse felt…empty. Wrong. It didn’t take long for the three of them to clear off back home.

                        “…Dean?”

                        “Yeah, Sammy?”

                        “Did you think Cas was acting…weird? Like, before he went home. Shifty. Like…Like he was nervous?”

                        Dean considered this. “Nah, not…Not loads, but yeah, I guess, a little.”

                        “…Do you think it has something to do with the case?”

                        “Sam, there are hundreds of kids in school. What’s the likelihood of us meeting the one kid that might know something?” Jo smirked. “He was probably just tired.”

                        Sam hummed, and tottered off to get changed. Dean looked at Jo. “…He was actin’ a bit weird, though.”

                        She just pulled a face. “I’m sure it’s fine. What actually were the reports of the case?”

                        “Uh…Just…Someone said they saw somethin’ weird during a fight someone got into with somebody else. I got no specifics. It was probably nothin’, dad just made it up to keep us from complainin’.”

                        Jo nodded. “I think I’m gonna go to sleep, too. Night, Dean.”

                        He grunted. “Night, Jo.”

                        He was thinking about Castiel’s weird behaviour, and the case, throughout the night.

                       

~*~*~*

_“C’mon, Turner! What, you scared now?” The blond boy in front of him smirked smugly._

_“You wish. You’re all freaks! Especially that fag little brother you’ve got. And Lucifer’s a coward, if he didn’t come to fight himself.” He sneered back, not really feeling it. The man in front of him was…weird._

_“Lucifer doesn’t know I’m here, Turner. Did no-one ever teach you to be polite? Guess I’ll have to!” The guy lunged, and Turner flinched. But nothing hit him. He glanced around hurriedly, searching for any sign of attack._

_It came from behind._

_A huge force rocketed him forward, against the wall of the science building. It kept him there, crushing him against the unforgiving brick._

_The attacker appeared behind him, and tugged him down by his hair.  Then, landed a solid punch to his face. Turner fell, suddenly without the guy holding him up. He ended up on the floor, but jumped to his feet as quickly as he could._

_It wasn’t quick enough._

_A tap on his shoulder made him wheel round, ready to hit back._

_But no-one was there._

_Another, to his other shoulder. He did the same, before spinning in a full 360. Because he was alone._

_WHAM!_

_Straight to the floor. The force was on top of him this time, pummeling into his ribs. He curled into a fetal position, but it didn’t help. Suddenly, the guy was above him. His eyes were a glowing, bright blue. Not in a mushy, YA novel way. Physically,_ glowing _._

_Like magic._

_The guy pulled him up, pushing him to a shaky stand. He could feel his skin, already darkening with bruises. Blood ran down from his nose into his mouth. His eye was painful to open. But the assailants’s hands were glowing brightly. He reached for Turner’s forehead, and no matter how much Turner tried to flee, his body was stuck. It wouldn’t move. Move!_

_“Michael, no!”_

_Someone was screaming. He didn’t know who, and he didn’t care, because now he could run. So he did._

_Behind him, a bright blue, almost white light exploded. It felt…safe. Warm. But as Turner looked back, he only saw two figures before the light faded, and they were gone._

~*~*~*~

Dean was bored. No one knew _anything_ about this case!

                        “Look, are you sure you haven’t see or hear anything weird? Smell anything odd, like rotten eggs?”

                        “Uh…no? Look, I have to get to chem. Sorry.” The guy, Dean didn’t know his name, gathered his stuff and walked in the opposite direction.

 

                        “I…If you’re looking for something weird, ask Turner Munroe. He’s a senior.” The girl beside him was biting her lip, like she wasn’t sure she was supposed to say anything.

                        “Why? What happened?”

                        “I got into a fight.” The voice made him jump, and Dean swung around.

                        Turner had brown hair, and was kind of short. Just an inch or two above Dean. “You…Don’t look like it.”

                        “Exactly!” The girl erupted. “Look, after the fight, he was messed _up!_ Broken teeth, broken nose, probably a few bruised ribs!”

                        Turner scoffed, “It wasn’t _that_ bad…” Turner was also a terrible liar.

                        “So…What, you recovered from all that in…?”

                        “The fight was Monday, last week.” Turner glared at him. “I went home, passed out in bed, and woke up like it’d never happened. And that’s not even the weird thing, kid.”

                        “It’s not?”

                        “No, see, he says he saw an alien!”

                        Dean scoffed before he could stop himself. “Aliens aren’t real.”

                        “Well, what do you think it was? There was this bright, blue light, a-and the guy I was fighting, h-his eyes…they were weird. Like…really weird. And his hands too, they were, like…they were glowing.”

                        Dean blinked. “W-woah, yeah, you’re right. Listen, I have to go, but thanks man. Oh! Uh…who were you fighting?”

                        “I don’t know his name. He used to live at some dump for kids that nobody wants. I think he’s related to Lucifer Shirley.” Turner smirked, and it made Dean sick. Barely restraining himself from decking the senior, because he knows he could, Dean nodded, and turned around, mumbling a ‘thanks, dude’, and trudging away.

                        Well, progress was progress.

                        He told Jo and Sam his findings that night.

                        ~*~*~*

Saturday came quickly. Castiel was kind of dreading it.

                        He’d decided to tell Dean today. He had to. If Dean did have a problem with it, it was better to get out of his way before anything happened. If Dean didn’t have a problem, then there was no point worrying.

Of course, this went straight out the window when the Impalas smooth black form slid into view.

                        Castiel sighed. Maybe tomorrow.

                        “Hey, Cassie.” Gabriel made him jump.

                        “Gabe, what do you want?”

                        “Are you wearing your binder?”

                        “…Yeah.”

                        Gabe sighed. “You shouldn’t, you know. You slept in it, and your back’s gonna hurt all day.”

                        Castiel sighed. “I know…but—”

                        “Ah! No. Take a sports top, then when you come out to Dean, because you said you would today, you can wear that and a jacket. You’ll look exactly the same, I promise.” ‘Sports top' was common code around here for ‘sports bra’. Castiel didn’t like that word.

                        He knew Gabe was right. So he sighed heavily, and made a show of climbing the stairs to his room.

                        The exact time Dean knocked on the door.

                        Lucifer answered, like he hadn’t been waiting all day. “Hey. You’re Dean, right? Cas’ll be down in a minute. I wanna talk to you.”

                        Dean looked nervous, but grinned. “Sure. What say we trade questions?”

 

                        They ended up sitting in the front room. Gabriel totally didn’t hide all of Castiel’s sports tops so they could have more time.

                        “So, you don’t want to hurt my baby bro, do ya, Dean-o? ‘Cause then we’d have problems. An’ I know he showed you the treehouse, so I know he likes you.”

                        Dean swallowed. “No. Hey, listen, you know this is technically our first date, right?”

                        Lucifer nodded. “It’s also Cassie’s first. So, I wanna make sure you get it right. You get me?”

                        Dean smirked. “I count that as a question. Yeah, I get it. My turn. I heard your brother beat up some guy the other day. Now, it wouldn’t be Cas, and I doubt Gabe could give the guy a broken nose, so, who else could’ve done it, Luc?”

                        Lucifer scowled. “Michael. He left last year. I don’t know where he lives; we don’t talk. Why do you want to know?”

                        “Just curious.” Dean opened his mouth to ask another question when Castiel blundered in.

                        “Gabe, what the _hell?!_ Why did you move—Oh. Hello, Dean. Ready to go?”

Dean stood, grinning at him. “Hi, Cas. Sure, c’mon.” He offered Castiel his arm in some faux-snob manner straight from Downton Abbey. Cas giggled and swooned in an appropriate manner before taking Dean’s arm and bumping into him lightly. They left for the Impala without looking back.

                        “Disgustingly cute, aren’t they?” Gabe grunted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey hey! Listen, I don't know what you like or hate about this, but all feedback is greatly appreciated! (plz comment?)  
> or, send me a tumblr message!  
> www.cracked-in-a-box.tumblr.com


	6. The One With The Date

The mall was the obvious choice, really. Not too crowded, but enough people to people-watch. Enough variety, but not rushed. It would be great.

                        When Dean told Castiel where they were going, Castiel grinned. “We _have_ to go to the arcade!”

                        “Sure, but you’re not gonna beat me at the first-person shooters!” Dean smirked. It wasn’t technically cheating to have a lifetime’s experience.

                        “You’re on! Loser buys lunch?”

                        “Sounds good! But if we’re getting food, it’s not gonna be there. I know a good place; my aunt owns a restaurant.”

                        Castiel nodded enthusiastically. “Great! It’s not too expensive though, right?”

                        “Why, Cas? Don’t wanna splurge when you lose?”

                        Cas smirked. “No, I’d just feel too guilty if you spent too much on me.”

 

*~*~*~

Cas yelled agitatedly, letting his gun fall to his side. “How?! How are you so good at this?!”

Dean chuckled. “I could tell you,” he flipped the fake gun around in his hand impressively and holstered it on the side of the machine, “but I’d have to kill you.” Then, to complete the gesture, he winked at Castiel. Who totally _didn’t_ blush.

                        “OK, OK, you win this one. But best two of three on Donkey Kong?”

                        Dean laughed. “Now why would I do that, when I’m winning?”

                        Castiel smirked, but schooled his expression into one he’d recently learned from Ezekiel, commonly known as ‘puppy-eyes’. “Pwease, Dean?”

                        That was enough. Dean began to laugh. He leant on the arcade machine. “Oh, man, Cas, you can try that, but I practically _raised_ Sam. I know how to avoid the cute-face!” In response, Castiel cranked up the pout, and Dean rolled his eyes, exasperated. “OK, OK, fine. Best o’ three on Donkey Kong, then we get lunch. I’m starvin’.”

                        “Ya-ay!” Castiel cheered, and skipped off. Dean chuckled and ran after him.

 

                        Castiel was good at Donkey Kong.

                        Really good.

                        “Cas, what the hell?”

                        “What can I say? Your aunt owns a restaurant, my brother worked here. We all know our people.”

                        "You didn't tell me that! Cheat!"

                        "I didn't cheat, i just...avoided certain truths to manipulate you for food!"

                         Dean sighed in mock anger, but perked up. “Lucifer worked here?”

                        Cas shook his head as Mario got hit by a barrel. “No, my oldest brother, Michael. He…He’s kind of…well, we don’t really talk to him, much, anymore. He kind of went a bit crazy.”

                        “What do you mean?”

                        Castiel sighed, fiddling with his fingers nervously. “I don’t really want to talk about it, Dean. C’mon, let’s get lunch!” And there was that grin again. How could Dean resist.

                       

~*~*~*~

                        “Dean, I have to tell you something.” Castiel’s voice was quiet over the engine of the Impala.

                        Dean glanced between Castiel and the road, suddenly wary. “What is it, Cas?”

                        “I…I…” Castiel stuttered. This was always difficult. He could feel his breath speed up.

                        “Cas, you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

                        “Yes, I do. It’s important, and you need to know. But—”

                        Castiel was cut off by the loud rumbling of his own stomach. Dean barked a laugh. “What about you tell me after we eat?”

                        Cas chuckled nervously. “Sure, Dean.”

                        The journey to the Roadhouse was short, but enjoyable. Dean ended up belting the lyrics to Back In Black in a silly voice.

                        They pulled up in the car park just as the final riff faded, and Dean grinned at Castiel. “How haven’t you heard that song before?!”

                        Cas laughed. “I guess I’ll have to be educated!”

                        Dean blushed slightly, and ducked his head, before showing Castiel inside.

                        Dean waved at one of the servers, a grinning guy dressed in an old band shirt and ratty jeans, blond mullet bouncing as he walked. Once the guy had seen them, Dean steered Castiel to a booth by the window.

                        “So, you’re buyin’, yeah?”

                        Castiel blushed, flustered. “Uhm…Actually, I-I don’t have any—”

                        Dean smirked. “Relax, Cas, I got it. You can pay for the next one, yeah?”

                        Castiel blushed. “Actually, Dean, I have to tell you something. I—”

                        “Hey, fellas! Dean-o, I haven’t seen you round here in a long time! Heard from Ellen yet?”

                        “Hey, Ash, uhm, yeah, she an’ Bobby’ll be back by the end of the week, probably.”

                        “Cool. Sorry to hear about, uh, y’know. That’s bogus, man.” Ash looked sympathetically at Dean, who shrugged.

                        “It’s fine, Ash. Castiel, this is Ash, he’s my friend. Ash, this is Cas.”

                        Ash nodded at Cas in greeting and looked down at his notebook. “So, what’re y’all gettin’?”

                        “I’ll get the usual, please, Ash. Benny knows none of the rabbit food on the side, yeah?"

                         Ash nodded, smirking. "Dean, i think he remembers our most regular customer doesn't like healthy food. What 'bout you, Cas?”

                        “Cheeseburger, please. Extra onions.”

                        Ash grinned. “So that’s two cheeseburgers, extra onions on both, no salad on one! Drinks?”

                        “Strawberry milkshake, please!” The boys said in unison. Cas blinked at Dean in surprise, chuckling.

                        “Wow, there’s another one! Geez, this is gonna end well…” Ash chuckled, before slipping off to the kitchen.

                        They stared at each other for a few more seconds before laughing again. “Uh, anyway, Cas, what did you want to say?”

                        Oh. Right. That. Castiel bit his lip, and cleared his throat. “Right. Uh, Dean, I…OK, first, whatever you think about this, you have to promise not to tell _anyone_. Get it?”

                        When he was met with a hurried but enthusiastic nod from Dean, Castiel leaned in closer. Dean subconsciously mimicked the action. “OK. Dean, I-I’m transgender.”

                        _Huh. It was always easy to say, once it’d been said. One day he'd manage without stuttering._

                        Dean blinked a few times. “Oh.”

                        “’Oh’? That…That’s it? Is that good or bad?” Castiel began to panic.

                        Dean just smiled. “Uhm…Not gonna lie, Cas, the way you were buildin’ that up, I thought you were gonna tell me you were spider-man or something. So, what, you wanna be a girl?”

                        Castiel was taken aback at how easy Dean was taking this. “Uh…no, no. Biologically, I was born a girl. I…This is me.” He shrugged, slightly self-consciously. Dean just nodded.

                        “Listen, man, I don’t know much about this, but I don’t have a problem. Not that it would matter if I did, it’s not like you need me to tell you who to be or somethin’.”

                        Castiel grinned. “…Thanks, Dean.”

 

 

The rest of their lunch date was fun. Castiel remembered to change out of his binder in the loos, and they talked about movies. And music. And books.

But eventually, they had to go. Dean pulled up outside of the care home, smiling at Castiel.

                        “This was fun. I…I’d like to do it again?”

                        “Sure, Cas. I’ll text you. Uhm…It’s Sam’s birthday next Saturday. Do you wanna…Come over?”

                        Castiel grinned. “I’d like that. Thank you.” Then he leant forward and planted a kiss on Dean’s cheek. The blush ran up both their necks and Castiel slipped out of the car, waving as Dean drove off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave comments and kudos so I know what you like or what i need to work on!  
> Drop in on my tumblr, leave me a message?  
> www.cracked-in-a-box.tumblr.com


	7. Parties and Partings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's birthday brings some trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY I WAS AWAY FOR SO LONG BUT IM BACK PLZ YELL AT ME IN COMMENTS

“Sammy!” Dean had dragged himself out of bed early that Sunday, for one reason only: to annoy his brother. “Happy birthday!” Dean all but collapsed on the duvet-covered lump that was Sam’s no-longer-sleeping form.

                        “Nnnnnn.” Came the intelligent response.

                        Dean flailed around a bit. “C’mon, Sam, I know you’re a teenager now, but that doesn’t mean you get to miss today!”

                        Sam rolled over best he could, and shoved Dean hard off the bed. “Dean, what the hell? What time is it?”

                        Dean grinned from his spot on the floor. “Seven thirty.”

                        The youngest Winchester groaned, and threw himself back, burying himself in blankets again.

                        “Oh, no, birthday boy, you’re not going back to sleep. You gotta help me an’ Jo set up!”

                        “For my own birthday?”

                        “You bet! There’s people comin’ over, and Bobby an’ Ellen are back today!”

                        Sam groaned, but swung his feet over the side of the bed to force himself to sit up. “OK, OK, I’ll be down in a few.”

                        Satisfied, Dean grinned at his brother and sarcastically skipped out of the room. Sam flipped him off.

                        ~*~~*~

                        “OK, Jo, get on that chair. I need someone to hang the other end.” Dean threw the banner at her, a ‘happy 13’ with a red marker addition of ‘welcome home’. Jo caught the end, and climbed onto the sofa to blu-tac it to the wall, while Dean did the same on the other side.

                        “’s not straight.” Sam smirked from the other side of the room, bowl of cheerios in hand.

                        “Yeah, Sammy, well neither am I.” Dean grumbled, jumping down. Then he realized what he’d said. “Uh, I-I mean…”

                        “Relax, Dean, everyone knows you’re dating Cas.” Jo giggled.

                        “What?”

                        “Yeah. No offence, Dean, but you’re the least subtle person I know. I kinda thought you already knew I knew.” Sam grinned.

                        Dean fought the blush climbing up his neck. “Don’t tell Bobby an’ Ellen yet.”

                        “We won’t have to. Cas  _is_  coming over today, right?”

                        Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah. He’ll be here soon, probably.” He half expected a knock at the door; Castiel had that kind of timing, but no knock sounded, so he picked up two packs of balloons and threw one of them at Jo.

                        They sat round blowing up balloons and throwing them at each other while Sam put on Iron Man. This, of course, evolved into listening to iron man while they played that game where the balloon can’t touch the floor between hits to each other.

                        The balloon, red and pear-shaped, had been fired at Dean by Jo. Then there was a knock at the door.

                        “Cas!” And the balloon hit the floor, forgotten, as Dean rushed to answer it. “Ellen! Bobby!” He quickly corrected, seeing who was really there.

                        “Hey, Dean. How’s things? The house is still here, so that’s a good sign…” Ellen smirked before Dean stepped aside to let them in.

                        “Hey, boy,” Bobby greeted, before adding, “Jo, Sam. Happy birthday, Sammy.” Ellen seconded this, and the five settled back in, watching the end of the film and catching each other up on recent events.

 

                        “—So, yeah, the treehouse was  _amazing_!” Sam finished, grinning wildly.

                        Dean was about to speak, but his phone buzzed in his pocket.  _Cas._

He pressed the Receive Call button, and left for his room. “Cas! What’s up?”

                        “Hello, Dean. I’m sorry I’m late, blame Gabe. Also, Gabe is coming too. Sorry.”

                        Dean chuckled. “That’s fine. More the merrier. I'm sure Sam won't mind, but my aunt and uncle are back today. Cas, I...uh, I'm not..." He threw a glance to his family in the other room, "I'm not... _out_ , yet."

 There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, before, "OK. That's OK, Dean, we'll just have to be careful."

 Dean smiled. "Yeah. See you soon, Cas."

 

Cas and Gabe turn up about half an hour later, and a few of Sam's friends show a few minutes after. Eventually, there's nine of them all gathered around the table, singing 'happy birthday' off-key while the candles melt on top of an out-of-the-box chocolate cake. after gorging themselves on the cake, which Ellen complained she could better with her eyes shut, it was time for the best part of any birthday. The presents. Squishy blue blobs ended up being new Star Wars shirts, smooth orange paper blocks were revealed as books, and brown paper packages were chocolate. Sam also managed to get a haul of DC and Marvel films that he didn't already have, so they watched those together. Dean let Sam sit on the couch with his 'friend' (yeah, right, that's all,) Jess, while Bobby and Ellen got the chairs, and Gabe and another friend of Sams whos name he'd forgotten too the floor. He and Cas took battered beanbags that squished together when they sat on them as the opening credits of Thor 2 rolled. 

 

It was late. Jess and whats-his-face had gone home, Gabe was waiting for Castiel outside, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, and Sam were clearing up. 

"I very much enjoyed today, Dean, thank you for inviting me."

Dean smirked. "No problem, Cas. I...I'll see you Monday?"

Castiel nodded. "See you then, Dean." He was about to turn away when Dean's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. 

"Wait."

"...yes?"

Dean shuffled closer, pressing a chaste kiss to Cas's lips. When he pulled away, Castiel's eyes flickered open, and he smiled shyly. "I...I'll see you Monday."

Dean watched him go, smirking contentedly. 

When he got back inside, everything changed. "Hey, Dean, look at this!" Jo called when he reached her, she shoved her camera over to him. "We were looking over photos of tonight, right, and look."

Glancing down, Dean saw a photo of the cake, Sam sitting behind it grinning, embarrassed, while everyone else was gathered in the frame. His eyes were drawn to himself, squished against Castiel's side.

"It's cute. What about it?"

Jo raised an eyebrow. "Look behind Cas and Gabe. Really,  _look."_  

He did. And he saw...light.

Behind the brothers were ghostly, shimmering shapes, that seemed to move even in the photo. He blinked. No, that was silly. There was nothing there. But...there...was?

"That's weird. What is that, like, a glitch, or effect or something?"

Jo shook her head. "No. Look, scroll back."

He did. His brow creased. Every photo that held the image of Castiel looked...odd. the same shimmering, morphing shapes trailing behind him. 

"You remember what Turner said? About the light he felt during his fight?"

"No. This isn't the same thing. It can't be." he offered the camera back to her.

"Well, what do you think it is?"

"What what is?" Bobby's voice was gruff, and made them bot jump.

"Nothing, just weird lighting in this photo." Dean jumped in before Jo could reply. He shot her a look and feigned a yawn. "I'm bushed. I, uh, I'm going to bed. Big test tomorrow."

Recognition flashed in Jo's eyes. 'Big test' meant they needed to talk in private. 

 

He ascended the stairs, deep in thought. What did this mean? Did Cas have something to do with the weird light? At the very least, Michael did, and they were biologically related. Was Cas lying? He felt cold. He placed his trust in a relative stranger, way too early, and now he was facing consequences. 

Jo and Sam appeared at his door. "Dean? What's going on?" Sam asked.

"I...I don't know. We need to find out what this means."  That meant lore. He lay on his bed and tugged a box of lore books and a laptop from underneath the frame. "What could do this?" 

 

 

They spent hours reading, until Jo gasped, and began to read aloud, "There is only one recorded experience of angels in known history. It details a bright, warm light, fire and pain for the wicked, and apparition-like shadows following the Marked vessels."

Sam took a second before replying, which was more than Dean could manage. Iit didn't  matter, they were thinking the same thing. "Angels? Like, from God?"

"I...i don't know. Maybe?" Jo's brow was furrowed as her eyes scanned the rest of the webpage. "It...doesn't say a lot else. But their info about other creatures is accurate, so..." She trailed off, glancing at Dean. "What...what do we do about this?"

"...Michael is a threat. We find him, gank him. Just like we would any other time."

Silence. then a whisper. "...What about Cas and Gabe? Didn't you say Cas had another brother, too?" 

"...Yeah, Lucifer."  _Shit._  "You don't think that Lucifer is..."

" _The_ Lucifer? Big, scary, end of worlds Satan? I... don't know."

"Dean...?" Sam's voice was small. Like he didn't want to disturb whatever thoughts had been keeping him quiet.

"He...He lied to me. He said...He  _lied_." Dean's shock turned to anger. "Fuck him. I'm going in tomorrow, i'm gonna tell 'im what we know, and then...then...fuck." Dean trailed off. He wasn't going to hurt Cas, not really. But neither would leave tomorrow unscathed. "I'm going to sleep. Get out." The others reluctantly left, and Dean stated awake for hours. 

_*_*_*_*_

Castiel was in a Good Mood. Yesterday was fun, he'd had a good morning, and he was going to have a good day. He was sat in the cafeteria, early for once, reading the ending of some sci-fi book before Gabriel forced him to watch the film. 

"Castiel!" The yell caught him off guard, and he looked up, brow furrowing. Dean, Jo, and Sam, marching towards him. Dean grabbed him, pulling him along to the closest restroom. 

"Dean, you're hurting me!" Cas tried to pull away, but Dean's grip on his shoulder was iron. Dean, green eyes flashing with anger, shoved him against the hard ceramic tiles lining the bathroom walls. 

"What are you?" Dean grunted, 

"Wh-what...?" Castiel looked up at Dean, who threw a punch at his side. "Dean, stop!" He screeched. He threw a pleading look first to Sam, then to Jo, who was leaning against the door to avoid intruders. 

"I  _said_ ," Dean shoved him again, "what. Are. You? Look at this,  _Castiel,_ and explain why you've been  _lying_  to us. Look." Dean shoved printed versions of Jo's photos at him. Nervous, trembling fingers grabbed at the paper, and the only noise for a few dragging seconds was the silent shuffling of paper over skin. 

"I...I..." Castiel couldn't speak. He could feel fear, and shock, and shame snaking through him. "I'm sorry. I was scared. But I can explain! We-"

"Did you know, Castiel, that my father was a hunter of  _freaks_  like you? Monsters that hurt those around them, bringing nothing but pain and chaos? He taught me some stuff, did you know that?"

"P-Please, I...I've never hurt anyone...I..."

"Maybe not you, but your brother has, right? Maybe after this i'll find him and give him what he deserves, yeah? How's that sound?"

"Please, Dean, I beg of you--"

"We said no secrets, Cas. You remember that? Ha! I was so stupid, I should have known I couldn't trust you, you pathetic--"

"Dean!" Castiel had never loved the sound of Sam's voice more than he did that second. "Someone's coming. We should go."

"Don't talk to me, Castiel. We're done." Dean gave him one more disgusted look, kicking his shoe, before turning and following Jo and Sam out.

Castiel sat for hours, crying and wishing to wake up before all of this had happened.


	8. Separation Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their fight, Dean and Castiel have to pick up the pieces to their own mixed up puzzles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYHEYHEEEYYYYY!   
> thank you to the person that commented last chapter just to yell at me, i luv u too m8.  
> idk if u want any warnings, but ill be happy to add them.

Castiel didn’t come into school the next day. Or the day after that. Or the next two days. As the time went on, Dean found himself caring more and more about the absence. He ignored the nagging feeling of guilt that was flowering in him, roots digging under his skin like a weed. Still, he went about his day-to-day, trying to survive without Cas there. But without him and Gabe, who evidently knew about the fight and disappeared too, conversation with their friends was…still. Lonely. Lacking.  But that was Castiel’s fault. He should have been honest. Dean wasn’t the bad guy here.

                        “Dean?”  Balthazar. One of Castiel’s siblings from the home. He was avoiding Dean’s gaze, his jaw set in firm anger.

                        “What?” Dean wondered if Balt knew.

                        “You’re wrong. I want you to know that.”

                        “About what?” Dean sneered, like he didn’t know and agree with everything Balthazar was saying.

                        “Cassie isn’t dangerous. I think—”

                        “I don’t care what you think. He lied to me.”

                        “He was trying to protect himself! And his brothers!”

                        “ _Then he should have said something and we’d’ve backed off!_ ” Dean grit out. Balthazar was silent for a few seconds, gathering himself.

                        “Cas…He’s in bad shape. I’m worried about him, Dean. I know you don’t care, and you’re probably getting all sorts of sick satisfaction from hearing this, but…I want you to know that you’re the first person Cas has ever trusted enough to tell about his…origin.”

                        “He didn’t tell me. I found out.”

                        “Patience, Winchester, will win you the Earth. Or at least an angsty angel. Oh, sorry: _Monster._ ” Balthazar spat, turning away and storming off to their— _his_ friends. Dean couldn’t be bothered to talk to them anymore. He would probably be leaving soon anyway, whether John was there to drag him away or not. He only had a few years of school left.

                        ~*~*~*~

The weekend passed slowly, but it passed leaving Dean on the couch, surrounded by empty cans. Maybe, at the bottom, he’d find the secret to not caring about stupid things like lying ex-boyfriends who just happen to not be human. Sam didn’t come home much either, making excuses to leave him to wallow in his own…not grief. Or sadness. He was _not_ sad about this. He was…he was….

He was.

But Hell if he was going to admit it.

*~*~*

Somehow, school made the three hours he was at school Monday morning drag on longer than the forty-eight hours he was away. And classes hadn’t even begun yet.

                        It was a miracle, then, that he even made it to his first class, (English with Miss B. Reaper,) without having a power nap under some tables.  But, he did make it. Taking his seat next to the window near the back, he was less than surprised (relieved?) to find Castiel’s seat across the aisle vacant, even up to the bell signifying the start of the lesson. The teacher was in the middle of writing ‘iambic pentameter’ on the board, and Dean was in the middle of wondering if it was too late to close his eyes and wake up in an hour, when the door swung open.

                        Standing there, megawatt grin going unchecked on his face and bag swung over one shoulder, was Castiel.

                        He wasn’t wearing a binder.

                        During the course of their short relationship, Castiel had explained to Dean how important his binders were to him. He said they gave him extra security while enabling him to be confident in his presentation of ‘male’. Sure, they’d hung out at Cas’s when Castiel would don a sports top and a baggy shirt, but they were alone.

                        Here, Dean knew he should have been feeling exposed.

                        Under his shirt and jumper Castiel’s chest was almost unnoticeable. To the untrained eye, there would be no difference. No-one really checks out cis teens chests. But Dean knew.

                        “Mr Shirely. Care to explain why you’re late to my class?”

                        “Sorry, Miss!” Castiel still had that stupid grin on his cheeks, and he sauntered past the teacher to slump in his seat at the back. Right next to Dean.

                        The Winchester decided there and then that the best course of action was to completely ignore the other boy. So, he turned to stare out the window, where a class of skinny kids, possibly a year younger than himself, were doing laps prompted by the balding gym teacher.

                        “Do you have a pen?”

                        At first, he didn’t register the question aimed at him, until it was asked again, with a swift but forceful poke on his arm. He turned to face the bright blue he’d been dreading all week, expectantly staring at him with no hint of emotion. Like they’d never met. “Uh… no, sorry…” _Fuck._ He hadn’t meant to apologize. But Cas—Cas _tiel_ either didn’t hear or didn’t care, because he was already turning to the person on his other side, a redhead called Rigby, to presumably ask the same question.

                        They sat in silence for the rest of the class.

At lunch, Dean went t take a seat at the table he’s sat at since he arrived, with his new friends. After the fight with Castiel, only Charlie and Jo still sat with him. He knew Charlie was only there for Jo, really. She didn’t forgive what he’d done to Castiel, though he hadn’t told her the complete truth.

                        But, there wasn’t room for him. There they were, sitting with Castiel. Gabe was still absent, and Cas’s bag took up the space he should have filled. Jo was missing too, but he quickly saw her across the room, staring in the direction of their old table.  

                        As he sat with her, she spoke. “They look so… _happy_. Like, this whole thing just…never happened.”

                        Dean turned to look again. “No, they don’t. Castiel looks happy. The others look…”

                        “…They look like they’re trying to keep him that way.”

                        Dean turned back around, unboxing his sandwich and slumping in his chair. “I don’t care. He’s fine, obviously. The asshole probably didn’t even care in the first place, and now he’s rubbing it in my face. Bastard.”

                        Jo just hummed in affirmation before eating her lunch in silence.

~*~*~~*

Cas was doing fine. He was. He just forgot his pencil case because he woke up late. Because he couldn’t sleep. He forgot his lunch because he wasn’t thinking, but now he couldn’t find it within himself to be hungry. He didn’t care. He was fine.

                        He spent the day like that. He didn’t even care that everyone could see he wasn’t wearing a binder. And he was certain they could all see. They could all see.

                        But he couldn’t care.

He laughed at things that weren’t funny, moved with less grace, but more power. He spoke more, but what he said meant less. It was a blur. Until that night. When he got home, he dumped his stuff, and once again skipping a meal, ran to his room.

                        It was messy; a lot more than before. That was because after their fight, he’d stormed back in and caused more damage than a hurricane, cursing Dean’s name. But that was ok; he was over it. He was. He was.

He wasn’t. Suddenly, the cramps in his gut seemed worse. The food he’d had that day, or, the lack of it, struck him like a tree under lightning. He fell apart, right there and then. He picked up something, the nearest thing, from his desk, and flung it across the room. Whatever it was smashed against the wall. Then he hit the wall. And smashed.

                        For a while he just sat there. Trying to cry. But nothing happened.

                        Then it did, and something in him shifted and he sobbed. For the loss of his friend. His secret. His pride.

                        Across the room, behind the door, two bright eyes about a foot off the floor watched him and wondered.


	9. Get Over It!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets a visit. Cas also gets a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blood mention, nothing else.   
> YELL AT ME IN COMMENTS OR ON TUMBLR!!  
> http://cracked-in-a-box.tumblr.com/

Dean expected Saturday to drag on just like it had the week before. He hadn’t even changed out of his ratty old sweatpants and torn ACDC shirt.

                        A sharp rapping at the door broke him out of his wallowing.

                        “What?” He snapped at Gabriel.

                        “Well hello to you too, Dean-o.” Gabe sneered. “May we enter your oh so… _humble_ abode?”

                        “’We’?” Dean repeated, then saw what Gabe meant, as Lucifer appeared in the driveway, leading a toddler with blond hair and a snotty face. Dean sighed and stepped aside as the three entered, glad that Sammy and Jo weren’t awake yet.

                        “Now, Dean-o, how have you been?” Gabriel asked, in a tone that suggested he really didn’t care.

                        “Great. How’s Castiel?” Dean snarked back, not expecting Gabriel to pull a face and grunt.

                        “Not great, apparently. He’d probably kill us for coming over here, but I think you both need to get over yourselves and talk it out.

                        “Why? He seemed absolutely fucking _perfect_ yesterday.”

                        “Yeah, well, we thought so too. Zeke here says different though.” Lucifer sneered, tweaking the child lightly on his shoulder.

                        “Tell me why I should care?  He’s a liar. He’s a monster.” Dean hissed, not missing the brothers flinch. “What? Are you one too?”

                        “That’s it!” Lucifer, who had been keeping a furious silence, launched himself at Dean, who pushed back.

                        “Wait! You juggernaut, we’re not here for this!” Gabriel pushed them apart, turning on Lucifer before facing Dean, “Castiel isn’t doing so well. Care or don’t, it makes no difference to me, but Castiel would never hurt anyone, and you _know_ that. Come and see him. Once.”

                        Dean held his gaze for a few seconds, then looked back at Lucifer, before his gaze landed on the kid. Zeke, or something. “Why’d you bring the kid?”

                        “He saw Cas freak out yesterday. It was his idea, ‘cause he saw you playin’ together. As far as he’s concerned, you’re Cassie’s best friend.”

                        “Pwease come see Ca.” It was a tiny voice. Shy. He sighed at Ezekiel, who’s puppy-eyes were much more effective than Sammy’s.

                        “…I promised I wouldn’t hurt him.”

                        Gabriel groaned. “Get _over_ yourself, Winchester! If you’re that much of a coward, I’ll sneak you in. But it _has_ to be now.”

                        “What? Why?”

                        “Because I can’t take any more of you two moping around like jilted, entitled rom-com boyfriends.”

                        Dean stopped himself from protesting, and huffed. “Fine. Lemme get changed.”

*~*~*~

Ten minutes later, they were at the entrance to Garrison Home, Dean’s nerves had amped up ten(million)fold. Castiel didn’t want to see him. Why was he here? What was the point? When he voiced this to Gabe, Cas’s brother just hit him.

                        “Stop being an idiot and get inside.”

~*~*~*

He felt like he’d interrupted something. All six other residents of the home stared at him, the cold distance in their gaze making him feel like he was being eyed up as prey for a pack of hungry wolves.

                        “What’s _he_ doing here?” A redheaded girl, older than him, hissed.

                        Gabe jabbed him in his back and he shuffled forward a few paces. “Uh—I, uhm…I’m here to talk to Castiel.”

                        “He doesn’t want to see you. He’s fine. Happy, even. Sorry, Dean-o, but you messed up. He doesn’t need you.”

                        Someone snorted. “Oh, yeah, like Mr _Righteous_ over there wants to talk to us lowly inhuman scum.”

                        “Y…You’re all…You’re _all_ angels?”

                        “Yeah. What, you gonna beat us up, too?”

                        Dean cleared his throat and dropped their gaze, and strode past them, anxiety turning to anger. He didn’t come here for this. He trudged past them all and up the stairs, cursing their hushed and angry voices. He didn’t bother knocking on Castiel’s door; it was open a crack anyway. It didn’t creak when he pushed it.

                        The first thing he noticed when his eyes adjusted to the dim light were the bowls and plates on the floor along the wall. Full of food, starting to smell. Actually, not just starting. It _reeked_. He bulked silently. Tissues littered the floor, like snowballs. He thought he saw blood spots on a few.

                        A yellow bucket lay on its side next to the bed, glaringly offensive with its brightness.  A binder lay on the bed, creased and stained. Speaking of the bed, a Castiel-shaped lump swamped in blankets and tissues sat in precedence. Fragments of broken glass made the carpet a minefield.

                        Most startlingly, feathers. Everywhere. _What the fuck_? Some were long and ruffled, others were tacky with blood and had an oil-like sheen.

                        There were burn marks on the walls.

                        “Go away, Anna. I don’t want to talk.” The voice actually startled him, and his gaze fixed on the cas-cave.

                        “Uhm…Hey, Cas.”

                        Silence. “Dean.” The lump rolled over, and shining blue eyes glared at him. It was creepy, and not human. But...it felt like Cas.

                        “What’s up, buddy?”

                        Castiel chuckled. “Like you care about how this, what was the words you used—‘pathetic monster’ is doing.”

                        Dean huffed. “Yeah, I did say that, didn’t I? Cas, I-I’m sorry…”

                        “No, you’re not. You meant what you said. I don’t blame you.”

                        “You should. Listen, Cas, I’m still angry at you. But…I’m ready to listen. I want you to tell me everything.” Dean sighed. “You said I should let you explain. So, explain.”

                        Castiel just hummed. “Why? It won’t change your opinion. What’s the point?”

                        Uh-oh. Dean knew what this was. He’d seen it in his Dad, his brother, hell, even himself. “OK, that’s it. Get up.”

                        “No.”

                        “Why not?”

                        “I’m bleeding. I’m dysphoric. You were right: I’m pathetic.”

                        “So, what, your monthly thing’s goin’ on and suddenly you can’t be bothered?”

                        Cas pushed himself up. The blanket fell to his waist.

                        “How long have you been wearing that?”

                        Castiel looked down at the binder. “…Last night. I started, and it was too much.”

                        “Slept in it?”

                        Cas’s silence was more than an answer.

                        “Castiel, you _know_ you can’t do that. I don’t know about this shit, but I know you cant wear that that long and not hurt like a _bitch_.”  Cas slumped down again, but Dean caught his arm, trying not to show how much Cas’ flinch hurt him. “Let me help you sort yourself out, then we can talk.”

“…OK.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YELL AT ME IN COMMENTS OR ON TUMBLR!!  
> http://cracked-in-a-box.tumblr.com/


	10. Feathers, feelings, and the meaningless death of Ronald Mcdonald

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean tries to help Cas. Much learning occurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH IM BACK i dont think any content warnings, comment if you want one.

_Cas slumped down again, but Dean caught his arm, trying not to show how much Cas’ flinch hurt him. “Let me help you sort yourself out, then we can talk.”_

_“…OK.”_

And that was all Dean needed. He tugged Castiel up and pushed him to the bathroom, leaving him sitting on the toilet seat for a few seconds before returning with a thick, loose jumper and swim shorts.

                        “Have a shower. Put these on. I’m makin’ burgers.”

He didn’t give Cas time to reply before leaving the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He totally _didn’t_ wait outside until he heard the shower start.

                       

Dean could feel their eyes on him from the other room as he worked his way around the kitchen, burgers cooking on the stove. The gazes burned into his back and he tried not to let it get to him. Until one of them spoke.

                        “What are you doing?”

                        “What’s it look like?” He grunted, purposefully avoiding meeting the eyes of Cas’ family.

                        “…Why?”

                        “’Cause Castiel hasn’t eaten and I’m not letting him wear a binder for a bit, so he probably won’t want to go out.”

                        “Oh…Can we have some?”

                        Dean snorted. “Get your own!”

The residents grumbled indignantly and shuffled off, leaving Dean alone.

                        Until about ten minutes later, when shuffling feet interrupted is eternal internal monologue of ‘Thunderstruck’.

                        “Dean?” Castiel’s voice was quiet, and not for the first time, Dean had to fight a flash of pity. Instead, he just shoved a plate of burger over the table at him.

                        “How you doin’, Cas?”

                        There came no reply.

                        Dean grunted indifferently and took a bite of his own food, then gestured to Castiel’s own “Eat.”

                        Castiel said nothing. This continued for several minutes.

                        Dean cleared his throat, rubbing his hands together to try and rid them of the unpleasantly warm feeling. “So, Cas…uhm…I think you need a change. Big movement to, y’know, just…to get you goin’ again.”

                        Castiel’s gaze slid up from his still untouched food, meeting Dean’s own. His complete stillness shook Dean up a little; behind Cas’s calm exterior, there was a huge storm of emotions and power that he’d kept pent up for too long. Dean wasn’t one hundred percent sure that he’d be left high and dry.

                        “What do you suggest?” The voice was slow, deep, calm, and terrifyingly powerful.

                        “Uh…Uhm, I don’t…maybe you could stay with us? Y’know, new…new environment an’ all…”

                        “No thank you.” Castiel murmured. “I don’t think I want to stay with people who think me an abomination.”

                        “We don’t think that—”

                        “No, you’re right, you just think I’m pathetic.”

                        “That’s not true and you know it. But you lied to me, Cas, you can’t expect me to get over that just because you’re all weepy.” Dean pointed at the burger again. “Eat.”

                        Castiel hummed. “I don’t feel like it.”

                        “I don’t care. At least try to eat as much as you can.”

                        Cas huffed and took possibly the smallest bite Dean had ever seen from the burger. “I’m done. Happy?”

                        Dean sighed. “Gloriously. C’mon, if you’re not going to eat, and you don’t want to stay round at ours, then we should at least clear your room up. Staying in that mess won’t help you.”

                        Castiel sighed too. So Dean did the only thing he could think of. He grabbed Castiel’s hand and tugged. “C’mon. We’re going to clear up our messes.”

                       

                        And so that’s how, two minutes later, clutching a roll of trash bags and a bucket of water, hands in gloves, Dean Winchester found himself wishing he’d paid attention to Cinderella when Sam made him watch it.

                        Maybe he’d made Sam watch it.

                        But that never leaves this room.

                        “Right,” he hummed, “let’s get started. He threw the bags at Cas, who unfolded one grumpily.

                        “I’ll sort out these plates and shit, you do the tissues.”

                        So they worked. Dean washed the dirty plates in the water bucket, scraping uneaten food into a black plastic bag.

                        “…Thank you.” The whisper caught him off guard.

                        He paused and turned to face the angel, who had paused in his own activity. “You’re welcome Cas, but you don’t need to thank me, I kinda caused this.”

                        Castiel huffed. “You think you did this?”

                        “I didn’t?”

                        “…Maybe a bit. But it’s mostly the other stuff.”

                        “Other stuff?”

                        “Yeah. You know, crippling dysphoria, angry siblings, that kind of thing.”

                        “Oh…I’m sorry.”

                        “It’s not your fault Dean. I survived before you, I can survive now.” Castiel turned back to his tissue-collecting task.

                        “So…you’re an angel, right?”

                        Castiel hummed. “That’s what you people have taken to calling us, yes.”

                        “What…What can you do?”

                        Castiel considered him. “If I trust you, you’re not going to react negatively?”

                        “I promise.” Dean felt the beginnings of a grin, something he couldn’t quite tame when Cas raised an eyebrow.

                        “I…On a good day, I can fly. I can…heal, too.”

                        “’Heal’?”

                        “Yes. I can repair damage caused to nerves, flesh, bone…anything, I think.”

                        “That…That’s…”

                        “Hardly monstrous, I thought.” Castiel hummed, driving Dean’s guilt a little further in.

                        “And…did you say ‘flying’?”

                        “Yes. I’m molting at the moment, hence the feathers.” He nodded at the rumpled and broken loose feathers littered around.

                        Dean reached for one, giving Castiel enough time to tell him not to. When Cas just nodded, Dean seized the broken feather from the scratchy carpet and stared. “What…what’s with the colours? And how come I can see these but not your wings? Do you have wings?”

                        Castiel flushed. “Uhm, yes, I have wings. We keep them hidden most of the time, tough. When the feathers aren’t connected to me anymore they lose their power. They become just like any other. And as for the colours…well, it changes. Different colours are associated with different emotions. For example,” Cas pointed to one feather, shimmering on the floor, “that blue reminds me of the time I felt proud of beating Gabriel at a videogame. The yellow one you’re holding signified my fear.”

                        Dean shivered minutely. “That…that’s amazing.”

                        “For Gabriel, I think that green is fear. His wings are mostly a sort of gold colour, so I think that colour means ‘self-righteousness’.”

                        Dean chuckled. “Sounds about right. Wait…” The idea that came to him then as less like a lightning bolt, more like water climbing up a beach: slow and encroaching. “So…you can fly, and…and heal…Castiel, when Michael beat up that guy from school, did you…”

                        “Yes, I healed him. I didn’t want to draw attention to us, but…well, you’re here, so I guess I failed in that task.”

                        Dean met his eyes. “I’m glad you did.”

                        Castiel threw a tissue at him.

                        “You’re smiling! I fixed it!” Dean laughed.

                        “Hallelujah. I’ll call the Pope.” A deadpan voice made them both jump, but as Gabriel and Hannah sat with them and began gathering feathers, the two boys just laughed more.

                        It wasn’t their fault that this took three hours. It wasn’t his fault that Gabe started throwing tissues and the whole thing turned into a snowball fight.

                        But it was fun.

                        Now, the other two had left them alone for food, and Dean and Cas were left in the angel’s room.

                        “Dean…Can I show you something?”

                        “If you want to.”

                        Castiel stood from his place on the bed, grabbing a box from on top of his closet and taking a feather from it. Dean ached to know what else was in there.

                        “This…This feather, aside from the treehouse of course, is the only thing I have left of my father.” Castiel handed the feather to him.

                        It was delicate, but large. About the size of Dean’s forearm. Mostly blue, with flares of orange and red at the base.

                        “Cas, I…I’m sorry…”

                        “I told you, it’s OK. He left when I was a child, and you know that. I see no point in grieving over someone I do not remember. Someone who didn’t want me. I keep it because it reminds me that I can stay with people. It tells me to be better.”

                        “Cas…Anyone ever tell you that you’re really cool?”

                        Cas chuckled. “Thanks.”

                        ~*~*~*~*~*

Eventually, once Castiel’s room was clean and no longer smelled of Ronald McDonalds decaying corpse, Dean grinned at his friend on the porch.

                        “See you tomorrow, yeah? I hope you feel better.”

                        “Of course. I’ll be at yours for noon.” Castiel smiled, and leant forward, planting a chaste kiss on Dean’s cheek, before retreating inside.

                        Dean did not think about those two seconds all the way home. He didn’t.

 

                        ~*~*~*~*~*

_01:21 Cas – Dean. I can’t sleep. Are you awake?_

_01:21 Dean—Yeah, I can’t sleep either. I’ve been going through Dad’s old things. I have to show you something._

_01:21 Cas—now?_

_01:22 Dean—well, neither of us can sleep._

_01:22 Cas—meet u at the treehouse?_

_01:23 Dean—c u there_

                        ~*~*~*~*~*~*

The walk to the treehouse was less creepy than he thought it would be, deserted park and forest and all. When he got to the tree, breeze clinging to him like a limpet, he realized the news he was about to deliver, subconsciously gripping his schoolbag to him tighter.  He squinted up at the treehouse, where a bright white light buzzed. Looking at it, he felt calm. “Cas?!” He hissed up at the treehouse. The light went out, leaving him cold, but then Cas’ face appeared out the window gap.

                        “Dean! Come up!”

                        He didn’t need telling twice. When the light fizzled out, so too did the security he’d felt during his journey. He scrambled up the ladder like a wendigo up a tree.

                        “Hey, Cas,” Dean greeted. Cas grinned and slumped onto a pale purple beanbag chair.

                        “Hello, Dean. What did you want to show me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow my tumblr @cracked-in-a-box  
> comment plz so i know that im doing everything wrong!!


	11. Night Terrors and Lightsabers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the treehouse, Dean and Cas discuss their families. At home, they watch Star Wars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to the person whop commented and motivated me to write more. That was cool.

Dean took in his friend’s expression. Hopeful. Happy. Tired.

He couldn’t do this.

                        “I’ll show you later. First can I ask you some questions? I still want to learn about your mojo.” Dean grinned, only partly falsely, and sunk into another beanbag chair.

                        Castiel smirked and nodded. “It’s called ‘Grace’, not ‘mojo’. What would you like to know?”

                        “…Can I see your wings?”

Castiel stood. “Yes, but they don’t fit in here, so we’ll have to go upstairs.”

                        Dean followed him, marvelling again at the flittering shapes the coloured glass ornaments left on the back wall of the second room. When he looked back at Castiel, the Angel just smiled.

                         “Ready? Remember, Dean, don’t freak out.”

                        Dean huffed. “Cas, I’ve killed vampires. I’m not gonna freak out over a few feathers.”

                        Castiel rolled his eyes, smile dropping slightly. Dean didn’t have time to question this as once again he saw the bright white light, only this time he felt only awe. When the light faded, Castiel was flanked by two enormous wings.

                        The tips of the primaries were a bright white, fading into a deep red. Fuchsias blended with pinks and purples which in turn became indigos and then olive tones, about a hundred shades of green fanning out of Cas’ shoulder blades. The spines were a dark black that seemed to absorb the light around it. Some feathers were bent and missing and it was obvious that Castiel was malting, but Dean couldn’t think of anything more vibrant. More impressive.

More _Cas_.

“I…Cas, they’re amazing. Y-You’re amazing…” True, he hadn’t meant to say that aloud, but by the way Cas was blushing he wasn’t about to take it back.

                        “I’m afraid they’re not in the best shape, but with everything that’s been going on I haven’t had the time to groom them.”

                        “You said that different colours meant different things…Can you tell me some more of what they mean?”

                        Castiel flushed even more, and sat, wings hanging over the edge of the treehouse. Dean mimicked his position, leaning against the back wall.

                        “Uhm…Well, white is faith. That seems to be universal among Angels. Our wings start out white and as we learn, and change, they develop different hues.”

                        Dean nodded. “What about your mojo? Uh—Grace?”

                        Castiel held out his hand, where the veins under the skin began to glow and a tiny ball of light manifested. “I can use it for many things. Our Grace is an extension of ourselves. Like a soul.”

                        “Does it change colours too?”

                        “No. Well—sometimes it’s blue, but almost unnoticeably so.”

                        Dean didn’t even realize that he was moving, but suddenly the light was gone and Castiel was grabbing his hand to keep it in it’s place about an inch from where the grace had been.

                        “Don’t touch it, it could hurt.”

                        Meeting Castiel’s eyes, Dean was suddenly wary. “Hurt you, or me? Or someone else?”

                        Castiel avoided his gaze. “Yes, our grace could be used to cause damage, as Michael used his. But I do not intend to hurt anyone. What…What was it you wanted to show me?”

                        Dean didn’t miss the subject change, but he still didn’t want to bring this to an end. “Uh…What emotions do the colours on your dad’s feather mean?”

                        Castiel met his gaze again, giving him a small gratuitous smile. “Uhm, I don’t know. He never told me. If he did, I don’t remember.”

                        “Ah. Sorry.”

                        The Angel shrugged. “Dean, what do you remember of your mother?”

                        And just like that, the guards were up. He _never_ talked about his mother. But Castiel had introduced him to his world, his secrets, Dean could do the same.

                        “Uh, not much. More than Sam. She…She died when I was a kid, when our house caught fire. Dad…Dad thought he saw something in the flames, and, well he _did,_ the guy was arrested later, but…well, he went a bit crazy. Dragged us around hunting his imaginary monsters. Turns out he stumbled on to _actual_ monsters, and raised Sam an’ me to kill ‘em and keep people safe. Sam hated it. He just wanted to go to school.

“But my mom, she…She was great. Where our dad was always…distant, my mom was amazing. She made the best pies. She sung me ‘Hey Jude’ when I was sick or scared…She used to say that Angels were watching over us…”

Castiel smiled. “She sounds like a wonderful person. I’m sorry for your loss.”

                        Dean was about to shrug it off as though it was nothing, but something gave him pause. “Thanks, Cas. I just wish Sam had known her.”

                        Castiel nodded sadly.

                        “Cas,” Dean paused, unsure of how to speak his next thought, “you said you never grieved over losing your father, because you didn’t see the point in grieving over someone who didn’t want you.”

                        Castiel stilled. “Yes, why?”

                        “…but, he built this treehouse for you. Obviously he cared.”

                        Cas seemed to stumble, mentally, before answering. I’ve pondered that. Maybe he knew he was going to leave, so he built me it out of guilt.”

                        “…yeah. Uh, Cas, I have to show you something.”

                        “What?” The tone was dangerous, like before; it held all the power and anger in the world, and Dean was struck again with the realization that his friend wasn’t human.

                        Dean pulled his dad’s journal from his bag. “I was goin’ though my dad’s old stuff, and…I found this. He wrote about every monster we…uh, he… _we_ killed.” He sounded apologetic, and he hated it. Like Cas would take it personally that they were defending people who needed help. “A-and…well, I had never thought much of it, but…since you showed me that feather, I…well, look.”

He flipped the pages and then he flipped the book, shoving it at Castiel. A drawing, scratched with a soft pencil and coloured with what looked like chalks, showed a feather, identical to the one in Castiel’s room. Chicken scratch writing detailed the way the owner of the feather, a monster, was killed by John Winchester’s hand.

                        “I…I don’t…Dean, please tell me…tell me you were too young.”

                        “We’re the same age, Cas. I was only a kid, Sammy was only a few months. Mom had just…The fire had just happened.”

                        “Oh, my…you mean...you’re saying he’d still be alive if…That is, that he didn’t just leave me?”

                        And just like that, a decade of stunted grief crashed down on him all at once. For the second time in such a brief time, Castiel broke. He seemed to malfunction, the information obviously taking longer to process than Dean thought.

                        But Castiel didn’t cry. Dean wished he had, but he was just sitting. Staring at nothing, his expression one of confusion. Like someone had just told him that his cat was actually a boy, not a girl.

                        “I…I don’t…I don’t care. He’s gone. You aren’t to blame. This changes nothing.”

                        That was a lie. Now, Castiel knew it wasn’t his fault. His father wanted him, but couldn’t stay. He hadn’t had a choice. But Dean understood what Cas was doing. Closing off the emotional part of the response and dealing with the here and now was how Dean got through life. It didn’t matter what had happened, because this was happening now and there’s no way to change it.

                        Dean also knew that Castiel would let himself react properly later.

                        “I’m sorry, Cas.”

                        Castiel shook his head. “I-It’s OK. I’m fine.”

                        Dean did what he did when Sam was upset. He started to joke. “Hey, listen, you know what? I think we could do with a pick-me-up. Wanna watch Star Wars at mine?”

                        “I-I’ve never seen it.”

                        Dean gasped melodramatically. “How are we friends?! C’mon, let’s go.”

 

                        And that’s how, two hours and twenty-five minutes later, sat on Dean’s couch and eating pringles out of the tube, Castiel had a new favourite film.

                        “I’m sorry, Dean, but Luke’s my boyfriend now.”

                        Dean laughed. “Sure, I get that. Just cos he’s got a pretty face and a long—”

                        “ _Dean!”_

 _“Lightsabre_ , Cas, get your mind outta the gutter.”

                        “Shut _up! Some of us are trying to sleep!”_

                        Both of them jumped at Sam’s intrusion, and Castiel blushed. “Apologies Sam, I didn’t realize we were being loud.”

                        “Well, you are.”

                        “Shut up, Chewbacca. Wanna watch?”

                        “Jerk.” Sam grumbled, but took his seat on the floor.

                        “Bitch.” Dean mimicked.

                        “I…I should call Lucifer and tell him where I am.”

                        “Wait, why?” Sam murmured. “Won’t he be asleep?”

                        “Lucifer normally sneaks out, and I have to cover. Now I’ve snuck out, he owes me.”

 

Three hours later, at Garrison Care home, after being yelled at by Lucifer about responsible sneaking out habits, Castiel Shirley went to bed happy. But he couldn’t sleep. Because he’d left a feather out on his desk. A feather that looked very much like a certain drawing in a certain journal by a certain monster hunter father.

                        He didn’t cry.

                        But he didn’t sleep either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> want more? comment!  
> tell me what i've done wrong and right!   
> Follow me on tumblr and shoot me a message! @cracked-in-a-box


	12. Angel Cake, Big Brother, and Buffy Binging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel celebrate Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAnd I'm back!  
> Hey. Sorry it's taken so long. Not to make excuses, but my GCSEs picked up and then ended, and A levels began. I've had some stuff to sort through, but someone commented and reminded me that I should probably not have left you hanging for so long. Thanks for waiting though!

Castiel awoke from troubled and spotty sleep in very much the same way he awoke on the day this all stated.

Mean siblings.

Gabriel, however, wasn’t as quick as the girls, and perished at the hands of the monster. He shrieked and giggled like a madman when Castiel grabbed him and threw him over the bed onto a pile of pillows, yellow wash cloth flying harmlessly to the floor. Castiel scowled at his brother, who was trying desperately not to laugh.

                        “You think this is funny, traitor? I’ll give you something to laugh about.” Castiel flexed his fingers and attacked.

                        “Cassie, no! Please, have mercy! I was put up to it! I swear!” Gabriel squealed and Castiel continued his tirade of tickling.

                        “Betrayal! He sold us out!” Anna’s tone was that of pure scandal, and when Castiel looked up at her in the doorway her hand was on her chest like someone had just insulted her ancestors. It took Castiel approximately two and a half seconds to get her the same way he got Gabe. Anna squeaked like a creaky door and stumbled back, but her efforts were in vein because Castiel brought his revenge to her. The two sunk to the ground at the top of the stairs, and after a few moments, Castiel stood.

                        “I win.”

                        “C-Cas! Cas! We’re sorry!”

                        “We’re’ sorry? You were the one who started it, Anna, I mean, really, you should be more mature and responsible!” Gabriel came up behind Castiel as Anna rejigged herself to sit on the top stair.

                        “Yeah, yeah, I’m the figurehead of the irresponsible elder sibling community.” Anna grinned.

                        “Why did you wake me up?” Castiel sighed, looking between them.

                        This time it was Gabriel’s turn to gasp. “You mean, you don’t know what day it is?!”

                        Castiel thought back through the days. “…October first.”

                        “ _It’s the first day of Halloween!”_ Gabriel cheered. Castiel sighed again, but smirked. This happened every year. Gabriel insisted that Halloween was the second-most important holiday, and must be honoured. The first, out of interest, was Gabriel’s birthday. Like he needed an excuse to be the centre of attention.

                        “I see. And what, exactly, are your plans this year?”

                        “ _Party!”_ Gabriel whooped.

                        “Of course. And why do I need to know?”

                        “Because, dear Cassie,” Gabriel said as he looped an arm around Castiel’s shoulders, “this year I’m going to help with yours and Dean’s costumes.”

                        “’Mine and Deans’?”

                        “Yes, Cassie. You’re a couple, you need cheesy matching costumes. That’s how it works.”

                        “Of course. May I ask what you two will be presenting yourselves as?”

                        Anna smiled. “I’m gonna be a cat. Hannah wants to be Rapunzel. Lucifer…well, he’s going as himself again.”

                        Castiel turned his gaze back to Gabe, who smirked conspiratorially. “You’ll have to wait and see, Cassie. It’s gonna be good.”

                        ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

                        “Hey, Dean, sorry to bother you, but Gabriel would like me to ask you if you have any plans for Halloween. It’s fine if you don’t know— _yes, Gabriel, I’m asking—_ but he says he’s having a party and he’d like it if you could come along for it— _no, Gabe, he has a choice. Because, I don’t want to make him do anything he doesn’t want to do._ Because _, Gabe, I’m not an asshole-_ Anyway, if you could call me back, it would be greatly appreciated.”

                        Dean hadn’t thought it be possible that Castiel could be even _more_ awkward, but the Angel consistently proved him wrong. He opened his messages, grinning as Castiel’s last text, a string of emojis, flashed up on screen. The keyboard appeared, ad he typed, “hey, Cas. Sure, Halloween sounds great, what’re we gonna be?”

                        _We._ That was good.

The reply came quickly. “Im glad. Gabriel says he’s…taking charge of our costumes. I don’t know if we should be afraid or grateful.”

Dean sighed. Probably both.

                        *~*~*~~*~*

                        They saw each other a lot in the run up to Halloween. Mostly at school, where Dean took every opportunity he had to drape himself over Castiel and throw notes at him from across the room.  Castiel put on a show that he was putting up with Dean’s antics, but after school, at the treehouse, Castiel’s wings shone brighter every day. But maybe that was his imagination.

                        But, truth be told, Dean had forgotten about their Halloween arrangements. Until Gabriel jumped him on the way out of his fourth class.

                        “Hey, Dean-o! Listen, I know you’re going to come, but here’s an invite to the party for you, Moose, and Blondie. Costumes are required, or candy. Preferably both.”

                        “You’re handing out invites? Why not…I don’t know, tweet it?”

                        Gabriel sneered. “Standards. I didn’t put the effort in with you, because Cassie assured me that if I did, he’s bludgeon me, but I’m going to put my, uhm, _gifts_ , to good use to hand out invites to other people. That way, I only need to hand out a few, and news will spread.”

                        Hunter instincts kicking in big time, Dean glared. “’Good use’? What does that mean?”

                        Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Really, Dean? I mean I’m going to freak them out! And don’t worry, no-one will get hurt!” He grinned madly.  “Oh, and, by the way,” Gabe’s grin turned sly, “It’s not at home. It’s at Michael’s house. He’s renting with some friends. They won’t be there.”

                        And then he disappeared.

                        Flying was something Dean had had to get used to in his time with Castiel. It wasn’t all fluttery feathers and meandering about in the air. In fact, it was instant. One minute he was talking to one of them, then they were gone. The first time it had happened, he and Castiel had been arguing about which flavour Oreo was best before settling into a movie night. Dean insisted the regular, but when Castiel looked at him incredulously, Dean knew he was in trouble.  Suddenly there was a Castiel-shaped gap and a subtle whooshing noise. In the five seconds it took Dean to begin freaking out, Castiel was back, cradling twelve yellow and blue packages, grumpily insisting that Blueberry Pie Oreo was, in fact, the best.

                        By the end, Dean had to agree.

                        They threw Oreos at each other during the movie that night.

                        ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

                        Dean awoke on Halloween morning with a ball of dread in his gut. Gabriel could be unpredictable at the best of times, but he’d been planning these costumes for a month, and from what Castiel had told him, had had no boundaries. Dean had even stopped visiting their home because whenever they were together, Gabriel would snigger and leave. It made Dean nervous.

                        News of the party had spread considerably quickly after a group in Gabriel’s year had been chased by a zombie through the park, only to have the zombie explode in a firework of paper invites. The video had gone viral, because of course it had.  And now, Dean was pretty sure the entire school, if not the whole district, would be at Michael’s tonight.

                        And he still didn’t know what he was going to be wearing.

                        So, when Castiel sighed and all but threw a black plastic bag at him before English, Dean knew this would be An Experience.

                        “I’m sorry.” Castiel sighed, before walking to his class.

                        The bag was taped with what looked like an entire roll of Duct tape, which didn’t help his nerves. Dean lugged it around behind him like a plague the entire day.

                        ~*~*~*~*~*~*

                        “Dean, are you ready?” Sam called, the giggle in his voice suggesting that the little shit knew _exactly_ what Gabe had made Dean do.

                        He stared at his reflection, ever so slightly appalled.

                        Red leather pants clung to his legs, slightly baggy in some areas, which did nothing for his self-esteem. Big black boots that he’d pulled from his own wardrobe, after dumping the high heels Gabriel had provided, were he only things that sat comfortably. A sleeveless, high collar shirt that was definitely a women’s completed the ghastly outfit, and Dean knew instantly who he was going to be for the night.

                        Fucking. Buffy.

Laughter from the door made him spin, meeting Jo and Sam’s eyes. Jo was leaning heavily on the door as if it was part of her, her patched bomber jacket hanging loosely from her shoulders, some weird seventies shirt glaring from underneath. The black pleated skirt and matching leggings looked weird, but he was hardly one to talk.

                        Sam wasn’t much better. “Dude! If you’re Buffy, who’s Cas?!” His pink baseball cap was on the floor. Sam had a pink shirt and jeans. That was it.

                        Dean glared. Jo just fumbled over to the bed, wher the blackbag was sat, and fished around. She snorted, and threw something blonde at him.

                        “No. No way.”

                        “Dude, it only looks stupid if you half-arse it.” Jo smirked. “You gotta go all the way.”

                        Dean glared at her, but picked up the wig. “I’ll bring it.”

                        Sam cheered and laughed. “C’mon, we have to go. I’m meeting Gabe and Charlie there.”

                        “Charlie?” Dean grunted.

                        “Yeah. She agreed to be Wanda when Jo smiled at her. Gabe’s my Cosmo.”

                        Dean snorted and it was Jo’s turn to blush.

                        They bundled into the Impala, Dean careful to avoid Bobby and Ellen while Jo grabbed her foam baseball bat, and set off to the address on Gabriel’s card.

                        The party was in full swing. Jo slammed the wig on Dean’s head as he crawled out the car, and snapped a picture of the three of them. “Perfect!” Then she trotted inside, like she belonged.

                        Sam followed her, but Dean grabbed his arm, “don’t drink too much, ‘kay, Sammy?”

                        Sam nodded, smiled reassuringly at him, then all but skipped towards the thrumming house.

                        “Maybe I could just stay here. The whole night. That sounds good. Yeah.” Dean mumbled, leaning against the Impala and pulling the wig off, reaching into the back to grab a hoodie.

                        “Hello, Dean.”

                        Castiel’s voice didn’t even make him jump, anymore. However, Dean did take a second to take in his appearance. If Gabe had done this to Dean, what would he do to his own _brother?_

…A dark blue button down shirt and black slacks were almost completely obscured by a too-big black leather coat, brushing Castiel’s knees.

                        “What the _shit?!_ How come you get to look like Neo, and I’m fuckin’ _Buffy_?!”

                        “I believe I’m supposed to be the vampire hunter’s love interest. I think the joke is that his name is ‘Angel’. And,” Castiel glanced at him, smirking, “I couldn’t really be the girl, could I?”

                        “Man, if this is how you felt, I get it. It’s the fucking _worst._ ”

                        Castiel snorted, and took Dean’s hand, leading him inside.

 

                        The party was…well, a party. Loud music, bright lights, the vague smell of vomit. But there was something else, something…weird in the air. A touch of atmosphere that just felt so…festive. There were cakes and sweets and drinks that Dean was suspicious of, due to both the lack of branding and the swirling colours in the eyes of those who had them. When he asked Castiel, the angel just picked up a cake and pulled it apart, eating it in chunks.

                        “It’s grace-infused. Just an extra little something that means the people here can be safe and happy in their celebrations. It also means that Gabriel’s move to get people out will be much easier. Just in case.”

                        Dean decided he didn’t care what that meant, but he still didn’t take anything. "Huh. Angel Cake."

                        Castiel just rolled his eyes.

                        The party was good. He saw Sam wandering around and laughing with his friends, only some of whom Dean recognised. Gabriel was a constant though, hanging off Sam’s side like a limpet, so Dean wasn’t that worried. They had a few drinks, Dean being wary to remember his designated-driver status. Castiel, however, not bound by the laws of his car, also, the country, drank at almost twice the pace, bottle in his hand reflecting the flashing lights as he grinned at Dean. He was impressed by Castiel’s tolerance and wondered if Angel-ness contributed to it.

                        He grabbed a tipsy Castiel’s hand and pulled him closer, so that he could hear him over the bone-shaking bass of generic-pop-song number twenty-three. “I need to go to the bathroom!”

                        Castiel tilted his head considering the statement, and Dean realized that he probably didn’t need to yell at an Angel. Either way, Castiel nodded toward a set of stairs in the far corner. “Up there, to the left. I’m going to get a drink.”

                        Dean smiled at him and turned away, jogging up the stairs avoiding the couples sucking face.

Castiel slunk off to the drinks table, in a slightly wobbly beeline, unaware of two bright brown eyes following his movement, and a form, draped in maroon leather and devil horns, slinking after him.

                        It didn’t take Dean long to find the bathroom. He was surprised to see no one inside emptying their guts in the loo, until he remembers what Castiel said about the grace-infused food. The music had followed him in there, but thankfully the light was soft, and gave his eyes a break.

                        Meanwhile, Castiel was having a hard time pouring sprite into red cups. He stumbled a bit, and a delicate hand caught his arm.

                        “Need help there?” The girl’s voice was silky, but had an edge that made Castiel feel weird. He stared at the girl, and nodded, letting her pour the drinks. “I’m Meg.” She smiled at him.

                        “C-Castiel.”

                        “Well, Clarence, I must say, I love your costume.”

                        “Thanks, I don’t really get the joke, but—”

                        “Well, that doesn’t really matter. I think it flatters you.” Castiel wasn’t good at personal space at the best of times, but he could tell that his own was being invaded. When he stepped back, she chased him, and when he hit the wall, she kept going. And going. Until her lips met his.

                         Dean sighed. The bathroom was typically college. And by that, he meant it was kind of gross. He finished quickly, and left before a queue could form outside. However, he was ambushed on the way to the stairs by a tall, dark, blonde figure.

                         “Dean Winchester?” the figure demanded.

                        “Who wants to know?”

                        “So, yes, then. Listen. I know why you came here. I know what you are. And if you—”

                        “Listen, man, not that I don’t love the dramatics, but, who are you?”

                        The figure huffed and rolled his eyes. “My name’s Michael.I—”

                        “Oh, so _you’re_ the asshole that almost got your family killed. Nice to finally put a face to the scumbag.”

                        “You can talk. You’re the one that kills people.”

                        “I kill monsters.” Dean bit back.

                        “You almost killed my brothers. Would you have hesitated if you hadn’t gotten in Cassie’s pants first?” Michael snarled.

                        “Me an’ Cas haven’t—”

                        “I don’t care!” Michael scowled, crowding him backwards against the wall.

                        “M-Michael?” the voice, that Dean had come to associate with, quite literally, a guardian Angel, appeared at the top of the stairs. Michael turned, revealing the considerably wobbly Castiel, brow furrowed. “Dean!

                        Pushing past his brother, Castiel launched himself towards Dean, gripping his hands. “Dean, I’m so sorry! I’m sorry!”

                        “Woah, Cas, what…what’s wrong?” Dean held his shoulders, instantly forgetting the angry brother who’d just been pushed aside.

                        “I…Meg, she…she kissed me! I’m sorry!”

                        Dean couldn’t help a chuckle at Castiel’s stress. Such a powedful being, brought close to tears by a tiny mistake. “Cas, Cas, it’s ok! That was her fault, not yours.”

                        “Y…you’re…not mad?”

                        Dean smiled, and gathered Castel towards the stairs, not even throwing Michael a glance, as if he didn’t even exist. “Let’s get you back, yeah?” Castiel nodded and took his hand. “Let me get Sam and Jo.”

 

                        They bundled into the car, and in minutes were back at Dean’s. Castiel followed Dean to his bedroom, while Sam and Jo split to their own.

                        “Dean,” Castiel giggled in a drunk person’s whisper, “Dean, I have no other clothes.”

                        Dean smirked, and threw him a pair of sweats and a curry-stained AC/DC shirt. ”Wear that.” So saying, he shucked off his jacket and shirt in one fluid move.

                        Cas giggled.

                        “What?”

                        “You’re pretty, Dean.” Castiel clutched the clothes to his chest, cheeks stained a dull pink.

                        Dean chuckled. “Thanks, Cas. You too.” He kept his boxers on as he changed pants and pulled on a baggy star wars shirt with a rip at the arm. “Ready to go?” He turned back to Castiel, who was inspecting a thread on his shirt.

                        “Uh, I can’t wear this, Dean. I’m sorry…”

                        “Why not?” The shirt wasn’t stained that much, surely.

                        “it…it’s my binder. I’ve already worn it a bit too long and this shirt looks a little…thin.”

                        Oh. _Oh. “_ Cas, I’m sorry, I guess I kinda forgot. Uh, here,” he fished in his wardrobe and found a baggy, thick jumper. “How’s that?”

                        Castiel smiled, accepting the jumper. “Thank you, Dean.”

                        “No problem, buddy.” Dean turned towards the door, “I’ll start makin’ popcorn, then we can watch a film, yeah?” After Castiel nodded, Dean left him to change.

                        They ended up bundled in blankets and sleeping bags, with bowls of popcorn and the lights off. Jo put a DVD in the player and sat back as the menu started.

                      Fucking. Buffy.

                     Dean groaned, but Jo just smirked. "Cas said he didn't get the joke. So, we have to start watching it."

 They ended up whispering to each other more than actually watching the Vampire Slayers Edgy Escapades. Castiel and Dean took the couch, Jo on Bobby’s easy chair and Sam on a pillow on the floor. Sometime during the seventh episode, Castiel rested against Dean, tilting his head up. Dean grinned and met him for a chaste kiss. When Sam hissed, “eeww!” Dean threw popcorn at him.

                       

                        He was woken by the phone. The Season One menu screen was replaying on the TV, and the others were beginning to wake too. Jo grabbed the phone, and stifled a yawn when she answered. “Hello?...What? Oh, my…No! No, I’m not going to--…I’ll tell him…Yes, Sir.”  She hung up, and sat very still. “Uh…Dean…that…That was your dad. He wants you and Sam to pack. He’s going to pick you up as soon as he gets here.”

                        “What? Jo, dad…dad’s dead.”

                        “Apparently not.” She looked up at him, and Castiel moved from under his arm to gauge his reaction. “He, uh, he got out of the nest.”

                        “Are you sure it’s him?” Sam frowned.

                        “You’ll have to test him, but…I mean, he sounded pretty normal…” Jo shrugged, her expression nonplussed.

                        “Where was he?” Dean was suddenly angry. Why did he take so long? What was more important than his sons?

                        “I…I don’t know, Dean. Ask him. He says he’ll be here tomorrow night.”

Dean looked down at Cas. Cas looked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment, drop me a thingy on tumblr (cracked-in-a-box.tumblr.com) or read another one of my fics :) OH and BTW: Jo is Ace from Doctor Who, Sam is Timmy Turner from Fairly Odd Parents, (Charlie is Wanda, Gabe is Cosmo, drop me a tumblr message and I miiiight draw them :)) and Dean and Cas are Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel, respectively. (geddit?) EDIT; scratch that, i'm just gonna do some timestamp-type things at the end maybe, because theres scenes that dont fit in the story but do fit in the 'verse


	13. John Winchester Meets An Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean comes out. John...does something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo. No tws? but this chapter isnt really happy.

“Where the _fuck_ was he?! Why didn’t he contact us?” Dean stormed into his room, quiet ambiance of the evening completely shattered. Castiel and Sam followed him while Jo woke Bobby ad Ellen to tell them the news. Castiel, used to fights about parents, sat on the bed and let the brother’ aggravation run its course.

                        “Why did he lie?” Sam’s brow was furrowed, voice loud. Castiel was aware that Sam and Winchester Senior never saw eye-to-eye, but he’d never seen Sam so angry. It threw him off.

                        “He _always_ does! He’s always saying we don’t have to move again! That he’ll be back in three days! I hate it! He shouldn’t be like this, Sammy. You’re right! I hate this! Why do I keep letting him boss me around! He doesn’t know anything! He…He thinks that everyone who isn’t the exact same as him is wrong. I’m sick of it! I hate him! I wish he had died in that nest!”

                        “ _Dean!”_ Castiel’s voice was like a snarl, vicious and loud. Both brothers stilled and looked at him, two pairs of eyes wide in surprise. “You don’t get to say that! You _don’t_! You can feel how you want about your father, but while he’s still here, you have the chance to _talk_ to him. To tell him how you feel. I’ve seen too many kids hate their parents and mourn them when they’re gone because they _didn’t get that chance_. And worse! _Some people don’t get to mourn. They don’t get to make things better!”_ Castiel’s speech ended harshly, and his voice cracked. He stood stock still for a moment, trembling, then retook his seat on the bed. His eyes sunk to the floor as his breathing settled.

                        Dean spoke first, anger almost completely dissipated. “Cas, I’m so—”

                        “Save it, Dean. Let’s just work out how to fix this.”

                        Sam and Dean slumped to sit either side of Castiel, silently resigned.

                        Sam’s voice was a stark contrast to Dean’s; small, quiet. Afraid. “Is…Is he really going to make us leave again?”

                        Dean huffed and turned away. “He can try. But I’m not leaving. I like it here. He can fuck off.”

                        Castiel huffed. “Maybe if we show your father how happy you both are here, he’ll let you stay until you graduate.”

                        The reply came in sync, as if rehearsed. _“Fat chance.”_  

                        Ellen appeared at the door, Jo trailing past her to the bathroom. “Hey, boys. We heard about John. You OK?”

                        “No.” Sam sighed.

                        “Ellen…If…If we don’t want to go with dad, then—”

                        “We were going to keep you both anyway, Dean. You can stay if he lets you. Who wants cocoa?”

                        The boys nodded, and she left. “So…we’re not staying, are we?” Sam smirked sadly.

                        “No, y’know what? We are. He can’t tell us what to do when he ditches us for _months_ and doesn’t even tell us he’s _alive_.”

                        “I’m glad he left you here.” Castiel mumbled.

                        “What? Why?” Dean frowned at Cas, ready to get angry.

                        “If…If he had taken you, we never would have met. You wouldn’t have learned about Angels, and…and it may sound selfish, but I never would have learned about my father.”

                        Dean stared at Castiel. “Yeah. I enjoyed getting to know you, Cas.”

                        Sam rolled his eyes. “I’ll leave you two alone, shall I?” So saying, he stomped out of the room, feigning annoyance. But Ellen called them, so they pushed him out the way in their race downstairs.

                        ~*~*~*~*~*~~*

                        “I want him to meet you.”

                        “What?” Castiel looked up from the sink, where he had just finished brushing his teeth. Dean smirked at the toothpaste on his chin.

                        “Well, he was on a hunt, hurting someone who might not have even been dangerous. I want him to see that I was doing something more important.”

                        “Oh, so I turned you into a hippie, did I? He’s going to love me.”

                        Dean pulled a face. “Yeah, I didn’t really believe it as I said it. But I still want him to meet you. You to meet him. If that’s OK.”

                        “When?”

                        “When he turns up Ellen’s going to lecture him over dinner. You could be there.”

                        “I certainly could.” Castiel wiped his face on a towel, then stood to face Dean.

                        “Will you be there?”

                        “No, Dean.”

_No._

“Wh…What? Why?” Dean searched the Angel’s eyes.

                        “I said ‘No’, Dean. I don’t want to meet your father.” Cas was suddenly stoic and still, breathing deep and even.

                        “But…But...” _What if he makes me leave? What If he bundles us into the car that night and I never see you again? What if I’m not strong enough?_

                        “…Cas, I…I can’t do this alone. Please, I’m…I’m afraid.” He’s never been _afraid_ of his father before. The thought just made everything worse.

                        “…If the person who lit the fire that killed your mother was here, could you dine with him?”

                        Dean was silent for a few seconds. In these few moments, Castiel pushed past him. “I would try to change him, to make sure he never did it again.”

                        Castiel stilled, and turned. “…I’ll think about it.”                                                    

~*~*~*~*~*

                        The car that pulled up that night was nothing special. In fact, it felt wrong for such a big moment to rest on the rain-soaked bonnet of a stone cold, stone grey 2008 Ford Focus rental. Castiel is tapping his foot as he helps Ellen with the pasta, hands shaking, and Dean can’t say he blames him. In the next few hours, Dean will come out to his dad, introduce him to his boyfriend who hey, is also transgender. Oh, and an Angel.

                        He was bricking it.

                        The sound of the rain was like a soundtrack to his thoughts, the repeating tapping looping around with his nerves as John Winchester, ex-marine and monster hunter, made his way up the garden path. The duffel bag and bulky coat over his shoulders made him look like a juggernaut; strong, unmoving, unforgiving. His knocks sounded like a death warrant, even up in Dean’s room, where he’s _still deciding which shirt to wear_. He grabs the green one, shoving it over his head, and meets Sam in a similar state of distress in the hallway. They chase each other down the stairs, just in time to see Castiel, sleeves rolled up and face flushed from the kitchen’s heat, answer the door.

~*~*~*~~*~*~*

                        The boy who answered the door when John knocked was not one of his children. His blue eyes were foreign, his dark hair unknown. For a second, he thought he’d pulled up at the wrong house, but then the boy smiled an unfamiliar, and possibly fake, smile and stuck out his hand. John shook it reflexively.

                        “Mr Winchester. It’s…a pleasure to meet you, sir. I’m Castiel. Come in.” Then the boy, _Castiel_ , ushered him inside.

                        “So, you’re Jo’s boyfriend, I assume? It…It’s great to meet you.”

                        Castiel ducked his head and smiled at John. “All will be explained, Mr Winchester.” And was it his imagination, or did Castiel’s eyes look just a bit too…bright, under the dim light?

                        “John!” Bobby’s voice was a welcome reprieve from the new face, and Castiel scampered off into the kitchen. “I’d say it’s good ta see ya, but I’d’ve preferred if you’d told us you weren’t dead, o’course.” Bobby’s tone took on an edge, and John stood taller.

                        “Sorry, Bobby. I know I should’ve called, but I got caught up in a hunt.”

                        “’t’s not me you should be apologisin’ to, John.” Bobby half led, half dragged him to the table, where Sam and the strange boy from before were serving plates of spaghetti.

                        “Sam.” John nodded towards his youngest son, suddenly feeling awkward. The dark-haired boy, whose name he’d forgotten, slipped back into the kitchen, but that didn’t help John’s mind ease.

                        “Dad.” Sam returned, not even sending him a look.

                        “Where’s Dean?” John looked around, only to see his eldest emerge from the kitchen with the dark-haired boy, sharing looks. Jo pushed between them cradling a basket of garlic bread, taking a bite from a slice and sitting next to the far end of the table.

                        John sat at the end, between Sam on his left and Dean on his right. The odd boy sat in between Dean ad Jo, and Ellen sat at the other end. Bobby sat next to her, opposite Jo.

                        The boy murmured something to Dean, and Dean snorted. John’s instincts kicked in. “What’s so funny, boy?”

                        Dean’s smirk fell, and so did John’s mood. “Nothing, Sir.”

                        “Well, I enjoy a joke as much as anyone. What did your friend say?”

                        “I said that it’s odd to share a table where I have elbow-room, sir. I have a large family.”

                        John grunted, his eyes flicking between them. They were sitting oddly, hands closest to each other under the table. Dean was eating with his left hand. Dean wasn’t left handed.

                        “So, dad, what were you hunting that meant you couldn’t call? Were they wrose than the vampires” Sam’s tone was overly sweet, and it set John on edge. His eyes flicked to the stranger in the room, but he seemed so at ease that John was sure he knew.

                        He’d speak to Jo about guarding her secrets better in the future.

                        He cleared his throat and replied, “I don’t actually know what they were, son. Big scorch marks when I plunged the knife in its chest though.”

                        Castiel fidgeted and Jo looked up at him, as if surprised to see him move.

                        “So, how did you two meet?” John asked, turning his gaze to Jo.

                        “I showed him around school on the first day.” The boy murmured.

                        “’Scuse me?” John huffed, throwing a glance around his silent companions. They were all extremely focussed on their food. But Ellen was smirking.

                        “I said, _sir_ , that I showed Dean around when you left him here. We bonded over the fact that we were both parentless.”

                        “I…I meant you and Jo.”

                        “Oh. My apologies. I assumed you were talking to your son about his bo-” Castiel cut off suddenly when Dean jogged him. Castiel jumped, shooting a sheepish and apologetic look.

                        “ _What?”_

 

                        “Dean, what is he saying?”

                        Dean cleared his throat, suddenly staring at his fork like it held the answers to the universe. “Uhm, dad, I have something to tell you.”

                        “What, Dean? What is it?”

                        “uh…I’m bisexual. I’m dating Cas.”

Silence.

 _Silence_.

                        Then, John laughed. “Is that it?” John scoffed. “Dean. I know I may’ve made a few…mistakes, but I don’t care about that. As long as… _Cas_ , here, isn’t any trouble, I—”

                        “ _Cas isn’t human!”_ Dean blurted.

If it was quiet before, now the air was stale and still. Even the rain had stopped.

                        “ _What?”_ John stood, and moved, but Bobby was there in a second, stilling him.

                        “It’s OK, John. Castiel is safe.” Bobby’s voice was hushed.

 _“_ He’s an angel.” Jo raised an eyebrow at John, as if this news was supposed to impress him. When he seemed unimpressed, she just hummed and took her plate in the next room. Sam trailed after her. Ellen let them go.

                        “Angels don’t exist. And if he’s told you that, then he’s lying and you’ve all been… _cursed_ , or something.”

                        “Angels exist, dad. You’ve killed one before.” Dean spat, standing to level with his father.

                        “Watch your tone, boy. I—”

                        “No! No, I won’t! I don’t owe you that after you let us think you were _dead_!”

                        John sighed angrily. “That’s not important, Dean. What’s important is that this…this, _thing_ , has tricked you into believing that you should give it the time of day.”

                        “Please don’t call me ‘it’, Mr Winchester, I use he-him pronouns. I assure you, I am both an Angel, and completely safe to be around.”

                        “Don’t talk to me!” John snapped. “You don’t get a say!”

                        “No, Dad, _you_ don’t get a say! You don’t get to leave us for months and then turn up and fucking _dictate_ how I’m gonna live my life!”

                        “ _Look what it’s done to you! It’s turned you against me!”_

“ _He let me be ME. He showed me that it’s OK to be proud a-and happy, which is more than I ever was with you.”_

John glared. His chair skidded out behind him, making a grating noise on the wooden floor. It teetered on two legs for a second, about to fall back, but Castiel flicked a finger and it landed sturdily upright. John didn’t even notice, he just turned around and walked out.

                        “Shit.”

                        “Language, Sam.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment, drop me a message on tumblr @cracked-in-a-box


	14. ...All through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even an...Angel...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night after John leaves is...eventful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so there's some bad implications in this chap, but of what even i cant tell you, so...should be OK?  
> This chap is short, next one may be longer, hopefully. ALSO: if you've liked this and/or read L99, drop me an ask on tumblr or a comment here for 1shot prompts in either of the 'verses!! I love that shit!

The memory of the night came back to Dean slowly, like smoke eddying from a candle.

                        _After John had stormed out, the family had eaten in silence. Then Castiel had said something to Sam, which made him laugh, and the tension was broken. But it hung on Dean like shards of glass._

_He’d put Castiel in danger by telling his father._

_But he hadn’t been thinking. He just wanted to be right. And now, one of the most unpredictable and dangerous hunters in the community knew about Castiel._

_And shit, Castiel’s family could be in trouble._

_That was on him._

_After they’d eaten, Castiel had called Lucifer to tell him he wasn’t going home tonight, and that he was safe, and had eaten. Dean appreciated that. He didn’t want to be alone._

_So Dean had settled on the floor of his room, Castiel had reluctantly taken his bed. They’d whispered jokes and ‘Would You Rather’s to each other for hours. Castiel’s stifled laughter made him grin more than his bad jokes._

_“Hey, Dean?”_

_“Yeah, Cas?”_

_“What do you call a dog who likes magic?”_

_Dean smirked into the dark air of his room, ready for a truly terrible punchline. “What, Cas?”_

_Castiel scoffed, “A Labrakadabrador.”_

_It wasn’t even funny, but Dean had to roll into his pillow to stop himself from giggling. “That’s really bad, Cas.”_

_Castiel huffed and rolled over. Then, a few moments later, he rolled back. “…Hey, Dean?”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Why didn’t the toilet paper cross the road?”_

_“I dunno Cas, why?”_

_“It-” Castiel cut off, laughing, “It was stuck in the crack.”_

_Dean threw a pillow at him. Castiel caught it and stuffed it under his head._

_“Cas?”_

_Castiel began to snore._

_“Oi, Angel boy!”_

_He snored louder._

_“Gimme my pillow!”_

_“Come an’ get it, blondie.”_

_They’d fallen asleep together._

He smiled into the pillow, and stretched across the mattress. The empty mattress.  “Ca-as?” He groaned, then looked at his alarm clock. 1:26. The red numbers glared at him like demon eyes.

                        The reply was quiet, gasping sigh. “D-Dean?”

                        Dean rolled over the face the sound. The air was pulled from his lungs in a great yawn before his attention was drawn to where it should have been. Castiel’s arms were curled around his legs as he sat on the floor. His wings were behind him, fluffed and stained red in places. Feathers lay in piles around him.

                        “Cas? What…What’s wrong?”

                        “N…nothing. I’m molting, it happens every year. I just…with everything that happened, I forgot. Sorry for making a mess, I t-tried to keep it off the sheets…”

                        Dean sighed, pulling himself up. “Cas, you should have woken me.” He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and crossed the room, “What can I do?”

                        Castiel’s eyes followed Dean as he moved and sat on the floor in front of the distressed angel. “Uh, I-I think…I don’t know…”

                        “Will you guys shut—oh.” Jo’s voice was harsh, sleep-addled. But when he met her gaze, it was sympathetic. She turned and walked away.

                        “Can you go and apologise to her?” Castiel sniffed.

                        Dean sighed, “Cas, I don’t think—”

                        But Jo walked in again, followed by a sleepy Sam dragging a duvet and two pillows. Jo held one of those soft hairbrushes and a laptop. She threw the brush at Dean and set up Netflix, grabbed the duvet from Sam and threw it over Dean’s bed, gathering herself under a part of it and shuffling over. Dean took a seat next to her, and Sam crawled in on the end. Dean beckoned to Castiel, who shuffled towards the bed, settling on the floor. As the movie, some cheesy comedy or other, began to play, Dean started to run his fingers through Castiel’s feathers, aligning the bent ones and dislodging the ones that were stuck. Every so often Cas flinched, but he only shook minutely, then settled again. The brush helped, but wasn’t really necessary. Some of the feathers bled, but Castiel didn’t seem worried, so he just took it easy.

                        They had to be quiet, and sometimes Sam giggled too loudly so Jo smothered him with a pillow. The moment was as quiet and dark as the night outside the freezing windows, but it was a welcome reprieve from the difficult and intense night that had preceded it.

                        And for this moment, things were good.

 

When the movie ended, and Sam and Jo had fallen asleep on his bed, Dean and Castiel sat and talked.

                        “I think you should talk to him, you know.”

                        “What?”

                        “Your father. He just needs time. The more you fight him, the longer he will take to come around. I think you should call him.”

                        Dean huffed. He was never one to stick to an emotionally charged subject for more than a few sentences, but there was no escaping this. “You didn’t want to talk to him earlier. Why the sudden change of heart?”

                        Castiel dropped his gaze and stayed silent for a few moments. “He cares about you. Earlier, I wondered, because he left you, that maybe…Well, anyway. He loves you both, Dean. He only wants what’s best.”

                        “You don’t get to tell me that, Cas. You haven’t been there. You don’t get dragged around to shitty motels to be left alone with _nothing_ but a younger brother. Before he left for hunts, Dad used to say, ‘make sure Sammy is OK’. He’s _never_ told me to take care of myself. I…I’ve had to steal food, Cas. I once stole some Christmas presents for Sam because the little nerd still believed in Santa, and I couldn’t tell him that Dad wasn’t gonna be home. I…I’ve had to do worse, Cas. I-I’ve…” Dean didn’t mean to spill so much. He practically shook with the anger of the memories of the things he had to do to get money for Sam’s textbooks, or new clothes, or next meal. The things he’d _never_ tell Sam.

                        The things he’d never tell _anyone_.

Castiel stood and said nothing, just wrapped him up in his arms, shielded him with his wings, as broken as they were, and held him. Light, the same pale blue glow from the treehouse, comforting and whole, seeped from Castiel. The veins in his hands, the blue of his eyes, the ridges on his feathers.

                        Dean felt right.

 

                        He didn’t even remember going to sleep again, but he woke up cradled in Castiel’s arms, legs knotted up in some imitation of a ball of string.

                        He shuffled away from his boyfriend, extracting himself slowly. Castiel didn’t even shift. Dean smirked at him before grabbing his phone and moving to the kitchen. It only struck him that Jo Sam were in their own rooms when he walked past them. He’d have to ask Cas about that.

                        He dialled the number and waited for the tone.

                        John didn’t pick up.

                        ‘ _This is John Winchester. You should not have this number..’_

When the message ended, Dean began to speak. “Hey, Dad, it’s me. Listen, we need to talk. I’m taking Castiel back to the care home today, and then we can talk, just you an’ me, about this. Call me.”

                        Then he hung up.

                        He looked back at the time on his phone. 5:45. If he were with John, he’d be on the road by now. Maybe even in the next state, preparing for the next life-threatening situation.

                        But as it was, he wasn’t.

                        So he went back to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you've liked this and/or read L99, drop me an ask on tumblr @cracked-in-a-box or a comment here for 1shot prompts in either of the 'verses!! I love that shit!  
> COMMENT it makes me write quicker!!


	15. The End...for now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so this is over now. Next one! ALSO: TWS: in this chapter, someone gets shot.

“Dean! _Dean_! Wake _up_!”

                        The light was harsh, now, not soothing. The movements too fast. He wasn’t sure what he was seeing, _if_ he was seeing, but he knew what he felt. As Castiel pulled him up, Dean felt fear.

                        Being jerked awake under any circumstances made his hunter instincts kick in, and in less than a second Dean was awake, aware, and alarmed. Ready for battle.

                        Castiel’s eyes were wide and blue, and on any other day that would soothe him. Cool blue, like sky, or ocean, infinite and washing him clean of all his sin. Now, the steely blue was a deeper cut than a knife, the shock of Castiel’s fear like a thousand volts right down his back, lighting his heart on fire.

                        “ _Dean.”_

                        “Cas? What…What’s happening?” He searched those eyes like people search for their loved ones. Their lost ones.

                        “Did you talk to your father?” Castiel was already dressed, shoving his feet in shoes and tossing clothes at Dean.

                        His brain took a few moments to catch up. He reflexively began to dress himself. “Uh, no, he didn’t pick up the phone. _Cas, what’s going on_?”

                        “ _Did you tell him where I live?”_ Castiel sounded like he wanted to be angry, like he wanted to scream, but his voice came out shaky and high.

                        “I…I said I was gonna drop you off at the home, but—Cas, why…”

                        “Raphael called me. Your father showed up at my home. He’s there, he’s armed, and my _family_ are terrified.”

                        _Shit._

                        He tried to catch up with that. Any other person, any other _thing_ , Dean would have no second thoughts. But now, he couldn’t even have the first ones. He just stood.

                        “ _Dean!”_ There was the anger. The fear. The Angel. “I can’t fly, Dean. Not properly, not like this. I need your car, and if you don’t help me, I’ll _take_ it.”

                        He looked up at Castiel, who somewhere along the line had begun to cry. “Cas…” Suddenly, something in him reacted like chemicals and he was there. Dean Winchester was ready. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll drive.”

                        The two barrelled out to the car, and Dean shoved the keys in the ignition, hearing his Baby’s engine roar to life around him. This used to be where he was happiest. Behind the wheel in a space that was _his_ , that would never betray him, never complicate things. A freedom.  Now, it was a force. A gleaming, black-eyed demon on the unforgiving road that had had never seemed so important but brought a shining thought of redemption. Power. Hope.

 _“Dean!”_ Sam. The little bother slid into the backseat with entirely too much speed, colliding with the other side. Jo slid in after, slamming the door behind her. He was about to argue, but they screamed at him, “ _GO!”_ And really that’s all he needed.

                        ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Garrison care home had never been a particularly big place, especially for what it was. The rooms were shared mainly between two, except in one or two cases where two sets of bunk beds sat opposite each other, sharing equal space either side of a window. There was one bathroom, which led to a queue every morning and night, and an eternal lack of toilet roll.

                        It had a fairly sized garden, with flowerbeds, a slide, hell, when Gabriel had _begged_ for a trampoline last year, that had fit too. The stairs were big and broad and bold, lined with carpets flattened after years of chase. A living space big enough for all of them but only one couch. An attic and a cellar full of dusty board games and old books, respectively.

                        But something they’d learned, collectively, over their years here, was that Garrison care home was not a good place to play hide and seek.

                        Now, Balthazar wished he’d tried a little harder at trying to hide.

                        Because now, he needed it. They all did.

 

When the man had shown up at their door, asking for a “Cassiel—Castiel, something like that,” Balthazar had known something was wrong. Firstly, the man was drunk. He _stank_ of booze, and he could barely stand. Balthazar had told him there was no one of that name there, that he needed to leave. Then he got angry. He started screaming, calling Balthazar a liar, that there was only one home in this town, and he _had_ to be here, and Balthazar had done what he always did in situations like these, whether it be a fight between siblings or a drunk stranger at their door.

                        He used his Grace.

                        The man was wholly unprepared, and was sent flying into the wall surrounding the home. But, he recovered quickly, stumbling across the yard.

                        A hunter, then.

                        Balthazar slammed his hand into the symbol etched into the doorframe, and instantly felt the invisible, rune-triggered protection barrier fly into place. Of course, it wouldn’t last for long. They’d been here so long now that most of the wards had been painted over and just not replaced yet. The guard had weak points.

                        A hunter would find one soon enough, even a drunk one.

The hunter stood at the edge of the barrier, staring at him.

                        That was when he called his family. Except when he got back, the hunter was gone. And so was the barrier. That’s how the Angels found themselves in the kitchen, surrounded with enough plausible weapons to defend themselves with. Little Ezekiel had been placed under the table with Hannah and Zachariah, where just last night they’d been hiding and raiding the cookies.

                        The others, all slightly older, were watching the windows and doors anxiously. They did not want to reach for weapons yet, but all had their Grace at the tips of their fingers, squirming under their skin like dogs before a race.

                        “Somebody call Castiel.” Lucifer growled, and Raphael grabbed his phone.

                        “Hey Cas? Something’s up.”

~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*

                        Dean knew the road to Garrison well by now. But he’d never done that drive at such speeds. He drove past the highschool, past the treehouse, past the Roadhouse.

                        And when he pulled up at Garrison, he barely stopped the car before Castiel was out and storming along the gravel path towards the door.

                        He was met half way.

*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*

They waited. And waited. But neither the Hunter, or Castiel, made an appearance. Anna moved towards the door, but Gabriel grabbed her and tugged her back. “Anna!”

                        “It’s OK! I’m just gonna check!”

                        “He could be out there!” Gabriel hissed.

                        “He’s _drunk!_ How dangerous could he be?” Anna scoffed.

                        “To you? Very.” The voice made them all jump.

                        The man was at the backdoor, the one Raphael was supposed to be watching, but had stopped to watch his siblings fight.

                        “Leave us alone. You’re drunk, you can’t possibly hope to fight five of us and leave.” Lucifer growled.

                        “I’ll deal with you all later. I need to find Castiel. I know he’s here.”

                        “Why do you want Castiel? He couldn’t have done anything to you.” Gabriel frowned, looking the hunter up and down cautiously.

                        “He…That _thing_ has _ruined_ my son.” John’s voice faltered, the alcohol in his system forcing him to break the unemotional illusion that he held up on a hunt.

                        “You’re Dean’s dad?”

                        “John, right?” Gabriel spoke over Lucifer, remembering what Castiel had told him. “Listen, man, Dean’ll be here soon, you can talk this out. But you don’t need to take it out on us. There’s kids here, man.” Gabriel slowly approached him, hands stretched out ready to defend. John moved forward, and Gabe flinched, blue energy zapping between his fingers. This, apparently, was what John wanted, as he grinned.

                        “I knew it. You’re one too. You’re _all_ nothing but _monsters_. Not even _human_. I should kill all of you.” John reached into his jacket and in a bright flash of metal, withdrew a knife.

                        Now it was Anna’s turn to move. She had no time for her brothers’ lines of reasoning. She just clicked her fingers and John was paralyzed. Then, she grabbed him and dragged him away, leaving a trail of confused siblings in her path. Balthazar grabbed the knife and followed her. The others ran after them.

                        “ _Get. Out._ Never come here again. Never look for Cas, or _any_ of my family.” Then, she shoved him out the door, onto the gravel, where he scrambled up. But it was too late. She was about to throw up the protection again, but the sound of rubber on gravel made them both look up.

                        Castiel was storming across the garden with all the anger in the world. As the car behind him actually stopped, Dean hurdled the hood to catch up. Sam and Jo hung back. Anna felt her siblings behind her, but John was too concerned with what he thought was the biggest threat to his family. Castiel.

                        Said Angel stood in front of him, and if either was afraid, they didn’t show it. “Why are you doing this? This isn’t about them, Mr Winchester. If you’re angry at us, why didn’t you talk to us last night? Or this morning?”

                        John considered him as if he were an idiot. “I don’t negotiate with _scum_ like you. You brainwashed my son against me.”

                        Dean huffed. “He didn’t brainwash me, Dad, he _helped_ me.”

                        “ _You don’t get a say!”_ John yelled. “ _You’re not capable of any of this, Dean._ I thought you were, I sent you on this hunt, and you do _this_. You and Sam are coming with me, and we’re leaving. _Now.”_

                        Dean Din’t even hear the end of the sentence. He barrelled towards his father, and suddenly a knife was in his hand, and Castiel knew Dean wasn’t going to stop. He moved his damaged wings, still outside the visible spectrum of a human, and did all he could for one small flight.

                        Dean was so _angry_. How _dare_ his father say that? All he ever did was underestimate Dean. And when monsters did that, they ended up dead. He had grabbed a dagger from the car before catching up to Castiel, and now he was going to use it. He raised the knife in one smooth movement, and plunged in into his father’s chest.

                        Except it wasn’t his father.

                        Castiel met his eyes, and Dean gazed at the knife, stuck in Castiel’s shoulder. His hands shook, but Castiel didn’t move except to rip the knife from him and drop it at Dean’s feet. This drew their gazes together again. “I’m not going to let you make a decision you’ll regret, Dean.”

                        He couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so he just looked back at the hole on Castiel’s shirt.

                        “I’m OK, really. It’s OK, Dean.” Castiel brought his hand up to cup Dean’s face, but he was shoved away. The two boys hurtled backwards away from John before he got the sense to grab them.

                        “ _Don’t touch him_!” John roared, moving his hand behind him and pulling out a handgun.

                        “You just saw him get _stabbed_ , dad. What do you think that’s gonna do?” Dean sneeded, but John’s grin was uglier.

                        “I expect him to react to these bullets like his father did. By keeling in the dirt, where he belongs.”

                        Castiel was briefly aware of his siblings yelling something, running towards the elder man, and Sam and Jo behind him, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t react, blindsided by Johns words. And then, it was too late.

                        The gun had fired.

                        Castiel flinched and waited for the shot, the pain, but it never came.

                        “ _DEAN!”_

It didn’t matter who yelled. Because Dean was in front of him, falling. Dying.

 

                        The light was harsh, now, harsher than it had been before. The movements too fast, but at the same time, every second dragged. He wasn’t sure what he was seeing, _if_ he was seeing, but he knew what he felt. As Castiel sunk towards him and then pulled him up from the ground, Dean felt fear. And pain.

                        There was a burn, in his chest. His skin was cold. His shirt was red. Did it used to be? The ground was uncomfortable. He wanted to move, but he couldn’t. Castiel’s blue eyes were replaced by his fathers. The cold, wet feeling on his skin got worse. He could feel himself gripping onto a thin thread of consciousness, scrabbling for hold, but it felt like rope burn. He wanted to let go.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_“DEAN!”_

                        John couldn’t believe it. Dean had jumped in front of the bullet. The Angel couldn’t be bothered to move because he knew Dean would sacrifice himself like an idiot. And then it acted like this hadn’t been its plan all along.

                        He was across the grounds in a second, shoving the monster out the way and holding his son. “Dean, Dean, please. Stay with me. Don’t let go, Dean. Stay here.” He broke off, and began mumbling nonsense as his oldest son was dying in his arms. He was aware of the tears on his face, and the Angel on the ground a few feet away, where John had pushed him.

                        “John, I need to—”

                        “ _Don’t_ speak. Don’t say nothing. This was your fault.”

                        “John, I can help! I just need--”

                        “ _SHUT UP! He’s_ dying! You did this!”

                        Castiel sneered and was about to move towards him, but something got there first.

                        “ _CAS!”_

                        John was sent sprawling as Sam tackled him away from his brother. Cas wasted no time in sliding next to Dean, cupping his face and resting their foreheads together. Now all he had to do was search. His Grace flowed through him, leaking over into Dean, hunting for any trace of life.

                        “C’mon, Dean. Come on…”

                        He could hear John yelling and Sam and the Angels holding him back, but he built up a wall around them, both metaphorically and literally, using his wings to create a shield between them and the world. A dark little impossible cubbyhole in the centre of his universe. He tried again, letting his Grace consume Dean, feeling for an ounce of energy. Nothing.

                        “Dean, please. We fought so hard to keep you here, don’t tell me you’re leaving now…”

                        He pushed further, his Grace moving past physical barriers, further, deeper.

                        _There_. One small spark, fading quickly. Dean was alive, just about. For now. He took the spark, usually so vibrant, now so faded, and offered it his own power. Not a lot; he didn’t want to overwhelm it, but enough. It hummed and buzzed in his grip, purring slightly. Not like a cat, like a car. Of course. It made Castiel chuckle, and when he did, it glowed brighter. Moved faster.

                        This was Dean. His emotions, his power, his vulnerabilities. Everything. And it was beautiful. And strong,

                        Castiel pulled back, still holding his boyfriend, still keeping them safe.

                        Dean coughed, and Castiel rested his hand to his forehead, healing the physical wounds. The bullet hit the ground under them.

                        “H…Hey, Cas.”

                        “Hello, Dean.”

                        Castiel couldn’t stop grinning.

~*~*~*~*~*

The following hours were hectic. They had all agreed not to tell the carers about the happenings at Garrison that day, so when they returned, the kids where gathered around the console in the living space, Dean and Castiel squished against each other, grinning stupidly.

                        There was no sign that John Winchester had ever been there.

                        Except now, the Winchester brothers were _staying_.

                        They would go to school every week day, and on the weekends, they were at Castiel’s, or watching films at Bobby and Ellen’s, or in the treehouse. They forgot to do homework, they had fights, they made up, they made out.

                        And sure, sometimes, John would pop by, pick them up for a hunt, and bring them back in a few days. Once, Dean brought Cas with him. Then again. And then he became a regular.

                        And when Sam graduated and went to Stanford for law, much to his father’s despair,  Dean and Castiel continued hunting together, for a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so, idk if it came through, but I DID NOT like this story. Sorry. But if you guys want a one shot based on this or another of my fics, ask in the comments or pop by my tumblr, @cracked-in-a-box.tumblr.com  
> NGL I seriously considered killing Dean off lol  
> The next fic is the witchy one. Chap 1 is up, but it may change by the time chapter 2 is published. Thanks.
> 
> COMMENT PLEASE TELL ME WHATCHA THOUGHT


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